Here and Now
by Emmithar
Summary: They started off as acquaintances, and soon became friends. Friendship then blossoms into more, but can they ever really be happy when the longing to live life constantly struggles with work? GregSara
1. Chapter 1

**Here and Now**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **They started off as acquaintances, and soon became friends. Friendship then blossoms into more, but can they ever really be happy when the longing to live life constantly struggles with work? Greg/Sara

**A/N: **Just a different take on the development of Greg and Sara's relationship. Not related to any of my other works.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI, or anything associated with it.

* * *

**Chapter One: **Just Friends

It was always busy at this hour, but if they came early enough they were always assured a table. It was always the four of them, sometimes Grissom would join, but for the most part the nightshift ate without him. Recently however they had added a fifth member, with Greg's promotion, and had welcomed him warmly; all of them proud of his accomplishment, even though he was quick to dismiss it.

Warrick was always the first to arrive, grabbing a table near the back were it wasn't as noisy. Nick would show up a few minutes later, with Catherine in tow not to far behind. Sara and Greg were different stories, each of them living their fair share away from the diner. They would come strolling in at different times each afternoon, depending on the flow traffic, and what time they had left their place. Grissom was always last, if he ever did come.

So in the end, it wasn't a big surprise to find the three regulars sitting together, getting a quick bite to eat before heading in to work. Nick sat across from Warrick, who had scooted to the inside when Catherine walked in, making room for her to sit down as well.

Warrick had opted to skip breakfast that day, taking instead a single cup of coffee, watching in dismay as his Texan friend attempted to eat three slices of French toast as once. Catherine could only shake her head, somewhat glad she had eaten with her daughter before coming in.

"Slow down Nicky, it's not going anywhere," Warrick cleared his throat, taking another sip of his coffee. It had already turned cold, leaving an unpleasant bitter taste in his mouth. He made a sour face, setting the cup on the table.

"I'm starving man, I missed dinner last night, Laura was having another one of her episodes."

Catherine raised an eyebrow as she leaned back against the cushion, one arm resting on the back while the other held her glass of water. "Laura?"

"Nick's girlfriend," Warrick explained quickly, "I thought you two were over with."

Nick shrugged as he took another bite, looking up from his plate. "We were, but she wants to give it another try. I don't think it's going to last much longer, she's crazy."

"Should suit you well," Catherine remarked, moving quickly to hide the smirk on her face.

There wasn't a return comment, instead Nick waved across the diner as Greg moved quickly through the crowd, muttering a thanks as the other man cleared a spot for him. He didn't need to look at the menu, ordering what he always did whenever they met here. They all exchanged hellos, watching as Nick finished devouring his plate in distaste. For some peculiar reason Greg no longer was sure if he wanted to remain sitting by his friend.

"Traffic must have not been too bad," Warrick commented gently, moving to break the silence that had settled over the table. "You're never this early."

"I left early," Greg confessed, his head resting in one hand as the other plucked at his napkin. "Neighbors are remodeling, and of course they have to do the noisiest of things while I'm trying to sleep. Hammering, and sawing…I mean, can't they do that while I'm working?"

"No," Catherine stated bluntly, "Because then they keep everyone else awake."

Greg shook his head, laughing softly. "Just my luck that I had to work nights. Now I'm pretty much a zombie. I haven't slept in days."

"You could always stay at my place," Nick offered up, using his napkin to wipe his face. "I have a guest room."

"So I can listen to you and Laura instead?" Greg teased, tossing a sugar packet at him.

"Does everyone but me know about this Laura?" Catherine asked incredulous, exchanging glances between the three men.

"Grissom doesn't know yet," Nick offered up, laughing as she frowned.

"Now I feel real special. Seriously Greg, if you need a place for a few days, think about it. We don't want drop dead from shear exhaustion."

He waved her off, grasping the warm mug in his hands. "I'll be okay; it's my night off after this shift. I'll sleep all night."

"If Grissom doesn't have you work over," Warrick pointed out. He glanced up as the final member arrived, watching as she grabbed a chair from another table.

Sara waved off any offers of food, shaking her head. "Already ate," she explained quietly, doing her best to shake off a yawn. "Woke up early to go eat with a friend."

"Why do we meet in a diner if half of us don't even eat?" Warrick asked out loud, waving one free hand.

The others shrugged in unison, Catherine stifling half a laugh. "It's because we always have."

"It's kind of pointless," he argued, "I could be getting an extra hour of sleep, instead I'm sitting here watching toast boy here shovel food down his throat like there's no tomorrow."

Nick shook his head, holding up a hand. "Not going there. I'm headed out, I want to start early on that Jane Doe case, it's already going to be long enough as it is."

Warrick nodded in agreement, glancing over his shoulder at the clock that hung on the wall. "Lab results should be back by now, I'll head over with you."

Catherine said her goodbyes as well, following the two men out, leaving Sara and Greg by themselves. She slid into the booth across from Greg once she had put the stray chair away, watching him as he finished eating.

"You want to speed it up there Greggo?" she wondered lightly, "We need to be headed in as well."

"What's the rush?" Greg asked, taking a long, slow sip of his coffee, solely to irritate her. He grinned once seeing the frown on her face. "I mean, we finished our case last night."

"One finished case always means a new one," she pointed out. "Not only that but you should check the time. Our shift starts in ten minutes."

Greg laughed softly, doing his best not to choke on his drink. He was rewarded with a peculiar look from his partner, one that he could not ignore.

"What?" she asked him, raising one eyebrow.

Greg wiped his mouth with his tattered napkin, shaking his head as he folded it into fours. "Nothing really…just that I know something you don't."

She waited for moment, but when he didn't continue she urged him on. "Which is…?"

"That clock is fifteen minutes slow," he stated smugly, pointing towards the wall.

She frowned, turning to look in the direction he was pointing. "Greg…if the clock is fifteen minutes slow, that would make us five minutes late."

Greg shook his head, ready to argue, but came to a stop as he thought over what she had said, realizing dimly that she was right. He gave her half a grin, but it was met with an unamused frown as she gathered her things.

He finished his coffee quickly, jumping up as she left the table. "It's a good thing the lab's only across the street, huh?" he prodded her in the side. Sara stepped around him, nearly colliding with a waiter who had her hands full.

Greg laughed as he caught up with her, holding open the door as she walked through. She was shaking her head, glaring up at him. "You just better hope Grissom's in a good mood."

* * *

It was hard to tell if Grissom was in a good mood, or a foul one just by looking. You could tell by the tone of his voice, or the lack of it as well. But just because he did not say anything, didn't prove any point at all. Sometimes the older man was there, others he was lost in thought.

Greg often admired his intelligence, even though he himself had graduated high school with a 4.0, and followed through college with much of the same effect, he doubted that it even came close to the accomplishments of his boss. He spoke in riddles, even without meaning too, sometimes it was hard to catch, and even harder to understand. He was like an encyclopedia, full of quotes, and interesting facts and information most people never even stop to think about.

The man could also be quite forgiving sometimes, depending on the situation. Greg was hoping that this was one of those times. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking over to where Sara stood. She seemed unconcerned, her stance evenly balanced as she waited for their supervisor to say something.

One would figure as well. Sara had been a CSI for years now, whereas he had only been in the field for a couple of months. Her tardiness would probably be dismissed; his would be more-in-likely frowned upon. Several weeks into his new job and he was already showing up late.

Not that it was the only reason he was nervous. He had always been nervous around Grissom; the man seemed to have a knack for it as well. Sara always held her ground against everyone, whether it would Ecklie and Grissom, or a suspect accused of murdering little kids. That was another thing he admired.

There was little that intimidated her, she was quick to defend herself, and always stood up for others when they needed a hand. He could remember several times where Sara had backed him up, staying late to help him finish a case, or covering for him when he slipped up. He was getting better, he had to admit. He wasn't making nearly as many mistakes, and was beginning to remember procedures that before he needed help with.

"Nick and Warrick are finishing up their Jane Doe case, and Catherine's taken an arson case. Since you've finally decided to join the rest of us, you can't exactly be choosey. Male DB, found in a freezer compartment of grocery store, north of here. David's already on his way."

He handed the slip of paper to Sara, who took it without hesitation, reading over what he had already said. Grissom looked between the pair, slipping his glasses on as he started to speak once again. "Try not to be late," he urged them, tapping his wrist as he left the room.

"Let's get going then," Sara called over to Greg before following Grissom out into the hall. Greg was not too far behind, moving quickly to catch up with her. He patted her on the shoulder, pointing towards the locker room in silent indication of what he would be doing before heading in that direction. Sara's only response was that she would meet in him in the car.

He did a little kick-step, using his momentum to jump up and over the bench that ran the length of the lockers, humming to himself as he moved the dial on his lock. Once open, he reached inside, grabbing the black jacket off the hook. It wasn't very heavy, granted you never really needed a heavy jacket living in Vegas, but he had learned from hard experience that jackets were indeed needed the further away from town that you got.

Closing the locker he walked on top of the bench this time, devoting his concentration on staying balanced as he walked the length, jumping off when he reached the end. He would be chided for fooling around, that was if he was caught. The last thought brought a smile to his lips, as he hurried along the hallway.

Catching up to Sara again wasn't hard, she was in the garage, moving towards the key board to grab a set for one of the remaining company vehicles. Greg ran the last few steps, reaching up for the same set she was, but his attempt was in vain, as she pulled them quickly out of his reach.

"Nice try," she stated, turning towards him. The set of keys looped between her fingers. "I'm driving."

"Can't you just let me drive a little?" Greg pleaded, following her as she made her way out towards the back.

She shook her head swiftly, the wind pushing her hair from her face as she moved down the sidewalk. Greg quickened his pace so that he was walking in step with her. "Why not?"

"Mainly because I'd like to get there alive," she taunted him, giving him a fake punch on the shoulder.

Greg was taken aback by her comment, coming to a near stop. "I get to the lab and back everyday, and I'm still in one piece."

"Yeah, and I've seen your driving, I'll pass."

"You have not seen my driving," Greg argued, moving to catch up with her once more.

"Yes," she laughed shortly, "I have."

"How can you when you never let me drive?"

It had worked, and for a moment she was speechless, but in the end she just shook her head. "I'm still driving."

* * *

It was amazing, sometimes how far night could actually stretch. At this moment, he was getting a pretty good view of it. They were miles from town now, leaving all the sights and sounds of the bustling city behind. When Grissom had said 'north of the city' he hadn't been kidding. It was nearly out of their jurisdiction.

Greg settled back against the seat, wrapping his arms over the coat that sat in his lap. It was too warm to wear it in the car, but he would need it once getting out. He turned to watch Sara, who seemed to be content with the silence, but it was driving him insane.

"You know where you are going, right?" Greg prodded,

She answered without looking at him. "Yes Greg, believe it or I do have a sense of direction."

He shrugged easily, looking back out the window. "Looks like you're lost."

"I am not lost," Sara defended herself, "it's a ways out here, so just relax."

Greg glanced at her quickly before checking the time. An hour and a half, for a drive that should have only taken forty-five minutes. Yep, she was definitely lost. He didn't say it though, only smiling smugly to himself as he leaned against the window, watching the sky.

"Would you look at that," Greg breathed softly, his eyes trailing the night sky. "You don't see stars like that in Vegas. Unless you count the celebrity bash they're having this weekend."

"Don't remind me," Sara warned him, "traffic's going to be horrible. I may use my vacation time after all."

He laughed softly at the thought of her actually using her vacation time. "Look at that there," he pointed up towards the sky, his finger pressing against the cool glass. "I think that's the big dipper. You see it?"

"Not really," she shook her head, "I'm watching the road. That's the first difference between my driving and yours."

"Harsh blow," Greg grinned, his eyes still tracking the sky. "There's the little dipper, and I think I can see Orion's Belt. There's Sagittarius, also known as the archer."

"How do you know so much?" Sara asked inquisitively, turning to look at him for the first time.

"I used to study them with my dad all the time, we'd get a blanket, find a spot outside and just try to find all that we could. Sometimes we even fell asleep out there, if it was warm enough."

"Why'd you stop?" she wondered, slowing down as she approached a corner. She watched him shrug from the corner of her eye.

"Moved out to the big cities…you couldn't see them anymore…do you want me to get the map out?"

"I'm not lost," she pointed out with a sigh. "I'm just taking a detour, that's all."

Greg chuckled, shifting in his chair. "We're on a roll tonight. Late for work, late to the crime scene…"

"Work was your fault," Sara pointed out, smiling to herself as she rounded the next corner. "Told you I wasn't lost. We're here now."

Greg glanced out the window as she pulled off the side of the road, slowing down to a stop as she reached the parking lot. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped out of the vehicle. Slipping the jacket on he zipped it up all the way before reaching back in for his case.

Sara was already ahead of him, moving under the yellow crime scene tape that was fluttering in the wind. Greg followed suit, taking brief comfort while walking through the store, but was greeted by the wind once stepping out the back.

David made eye contact, but only for a moment as he turned his attention back to the clipboard in his hands. "Body's inside, my guess he's been in there for five hours prior to when I got here, more like six or seven now. I didn't move the body, only took a liver temp."

"Thank you David," Sara nodded to him as she walked past. Greg was not too far behind, already holding a flashlight, his beam illuminating the ground. "Get some pictures of the body so David can get it back to the lab, then we'll start processing."

Greg nodded, already taking the role as student as he placed his case down. His camera was already hanging around his neck, having put it on shortly after his coat. He took several of the body, walking around to get several different angles before moving onto the rest of the freezer.

He frowned, letting the camera come to rest against his chest. "Why let the freezer keep running, and have the door stand wide open? Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

"A lot of merchandise in here," Sara commented lightly. "They can't take anything out, so they'll do their best to save what they can."

"Owner still hasn't been contacted; the clerk on duty came into the freezer to stock the shelves, found the body. Said he hasn't touched a thing, but he doesn't speak English very well. He'll come back to the station with me so we can get a full statement," Brass stated, coming into the freezer. He took care to step over the several upturned boxes that crossed the floor.

"Make sure you document that," Sara nodded towards Greg, leaning over the body. She reached down carefully, swabbing the blood pool that had formed around the victim's head.

"Looks like a gunshot wound," she commented, glancing up as Brass came up behind her.

"There wasn't a weapon found, killer probably took it with him," he suggested.

"Or dumped it somewhere," Sara pointed out, taking a look around her. "Lots of places to stash a gun."

"Well, since you're here, I'm headed back, I have another call already, they're waiting."

Sara gave the detective a small smile, doing her best not to blush as Greg commented on her navigation skills. Not long after David had come in to collect the body, leaving the two alone to process the scene.

* * *

Sara bit her lip, doing her best not to shiver as she moved along the wall. She had assumed that the freezer would have been shut off, but without the owner's consent, they had no control over the issue. She should have been thinking ahead, should have grabbed something warmer.

She had assumed then that her long sleeve shirt would have been enough to keep her warm, as long as she kept moving, but as more time passed it was apparent that her plan was not working. She closed her case with a sigh, forcing herself back to her feet.

"I'm going to check the store," she told Greg, walking by him. The younger man only nodded, skimming his flashlight along the ground.

She came to a stop, frowning as she did so. "Greg…how long has the door been closed?"

"I didn't even know it was," he admitted, looking up at her. "I thought it was getting colder in here."

"David must have shut it when he left," she suggested, "I'll print the door, see what I get."

Greg walked up behind her, handed her his own duster that was ready to go. She gave him a small smile, dusting the first side as Greg held the flashlight up. "A few partials," he commented.

"Not enough to match anything," she stated with a sigh, "I'll try the other side."

She had reached for the handle, but it wouldn't budge, and she had tried a second time, with little success. She exchanged a worried glance with Greg, who cleared his throat. "There should be a safety latch here somewhere, it shouldn't lock like that."

Sara nodded, taking a deep breath as she forced herself to calm down. Of course they weren't actually locked in a freezer, that was a ridiculous thought. It was a requirement, to have safety release latches in all freezers now…wasn't it?

Greg pointed above her, to the small button that sat just above her eye level. She smiled to herself, already feeling better about the situation as she reached up to push it. But like the door it didn't budge. She tried again, harder this time, but ended with much the same result. Greg tried it a third time for good measure, but it was clear now…they were stuck inside a freezer, and there was no one around to help them.

* * *

Cold…he hated the cold…no he despised the cold, and this situation wasn't helping in the least bit. He had given up trying, trying to open the door, or make the lock budge. It was clear that it wasn't moving, and not only was it useless, but stupid to waste energy on trying.

Sara paced in front of him, her arms wrapped around her chest as she muttered dryly to herself. He couldn't catch all of what she was saying; only bits and pieces, but he could get a clear enough idea.

"You have service yet?" she snapped, staring at her own phone.

Greg let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "If I didn't have service five minutes ago, what makes you think that I'd have it now?"

She shook her head, teeth chattering as she resumed her pacing. In one step he had reached her, grabbing her by the arms to stop her. Sara watched him confusedly for a moment before shaking him off.

"Stop moving," Greg told her, taking the lead for the first time that night. "We need to stay warm. Someone's bound to come looking for us in not too much longer. Until then we need to save our strength."

"We've been out here for only a few hours," she reminded him. "We can go eight to ten hours before anyone gets around to even calling us. Do the math Greg, we can't survive that long."

"So what then?" he demanded, looking into her eyes. "Just give up? I don't think so."

His tone had surprised her; he could see it in her eyes, the way she looked back at him. He took a breath, softening his voice. "Here," he moved quickly, letting go of her to take his jacket off.

Sara shook her head, "Greg, put your jacket back on."

"I have a sweater," he stated, moving to help her put it on.

"So do I," she commented dryly, but was unable to resist the offer of warmth he had given her.

"No, you have thin shirt that's nearly see through," he nodded, "and yes, I looked, if you really want to know."

She gave him an odd look, pulling the jacket around her even as Greg zipped it up. It was then he sat himself down against the wall, motioning her to follow. She did after a moment, still hesitant to trust him.

Greg wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. She resisted at first, but relaxed into his hold when she realized what he was doing. Sharing body heat, one of the surest way of survival in cold climate. Which, if she really thought about it, was where they were.

"Do me a favor and remind me to kill Grissom for making me come way out here," Sara muttered dryly, leaning her full weight against his chest. It was then she could really smell him; fabric softener on his clothes, the gel he had used in his hair the morning, the cinnamon on his breath from the gum he was chewing earlier. Oddly, it was a sweet mixture, one she could get used to…

She blushed, turning away as Greg laughed at her last comment. Just friends…she reminded herself, closing her eyes, that's all they were, friends…

**TBC**


	2. Becoming More

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, you guys are beyond great. Another chapter, not as long as the first. Third part should be up in not too long, but I won't make any promises, life can get really busy.**

**Don't forget to review:D**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Becoming More**

At first, all she knew was white. It didn't make any sense, but it was the only thing in her mind. It was slowly followed by a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, it tasted like…butterscotch?

Her lips were dry, as was her throat, prompting the question to leave her mouth. It came out garbled, barely understandable, but it was enough. She could feel the movement around her, and then a straw resting on her lower lip. The water was cool, soothing her irritated throat, calming her for a moment as she tried to regain her senses.

The room wasn't very bright, but her eyes had trouble adjusting anyways, blinking several times. She was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes slowly trailing around the room. Hospital…that would explain all the white…but the butterscotch?

When her eyes came to a rest on the man beside her she managed a small smile, her earlier edginess wearing off. Warrick smiled back as he placed the cup back down on the table that was next to her bed.

"They said you should be waking up soon, thought you shouldn't be alone," he explained.

Sara didn't respond at first, her eyes closed halfway as she tried to recall what had happened, trying to remember why she was in here in the first place. Last time she had seen Warrick was at the diner…at work she had left with Greg…at the scene, then the freezer…

"Greg?" She muttered quickly, her eyes opening to focus on the man next to her. They had ended up locked in the freezer, huddled together near the door, slowly freezing…she didn't remember falling asleep, didn't remember how she ended up here, and now it was starting to worry her.

"He's worse off than you are, but like you, he'll be okay," Warrick nodded towards her. "The both of you are pretty damn lucky."

Sara cleared her throat, using her arms to push herself into a sitting position. Warrick made a move to help her, but she waved him off. Even though she still felt exhausted, she could manage by herself.

"How did you find us," she asked softly. "Our cell phones wouldn't work in there and everyone else had left the scene…"

"Catherine needed to talk with you about your last case," Warrick started once he was certain Sara would be okay. "When you didn't answer she drove up to find you." He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "She was raving mad when she left, saying that she'd kill the both of you. Imagine our surprise when she's calling the lab back to report that you two were on your way to the hospital."

"You didn't actually think…" she trailed off as Warrick shook his head. He was laughing again, causing her to smile.

"No, but it really was a surprise. We were worried, of course, but it still was enjoyable. Once we knew you'd be okay, that was."

"Uh huh…" Sara rolled her eyes to add to the effect, settling back further against her pillows. She wasn't sure as of yet to why she felt so tired.

"What happened?"

Warrick only watched her for a moment, before leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. "We're not sure yet, Catherine and Griss are finishing things up there. As far as we can figure there was a brace that was used to hold the door open. We're thinking it gave way, the door shut. Owner says the safety handle's been broken for years, never made a move to fix it."

"That's smart," she commented sarcastically, letting out a sigh. "How long were we in there?"

Warrick shrugged, "Can't really say. We were going to let David do a liver temp, but Grissom wouldn't let us."

She didn't respond to his last comment, only frowning as he chuckled lightly. She knew he was doing his best to cheer her up, and it worried her some. "Are you sure Greg's okay? I mean, can I see him myself?"

"You can when the hospital releases you. They say you should be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. They're going to keep Greg in a little longer, make sure he's okay. You know, that was a pretty smart idea…sharing body heat. If you hadn't…" he shrugged, "Let's just say you wouldn't be with us."

"It was Greg's idea," Sara said quietly, feeling foolish knowing that she would have never thought about it. "He gave me his coat…kept me warm…"

"Good thinking of him then," Warrick nodded. He took in a breath, before standing slowly. "You may want to get some rest; Catherine will be in later to take your statement."

Sara blinked dully, watching him as he headed back towards the door. "Why don't you just take it?"

Warrick shook his head. "Not my case, I'm off shift. I'll drop off by Greg's room on the way out; see if he's awake yet. Get your rest."

She sunk down into the pillows, watching as the last of his shadow disappeared from the wall. Now she was completely alone. The thought they may actually die hadn't really crossed her mind. At first it was almost funny…almost. All she could think of then was the humiliation the pair would have to face when the rest of the lab found out they had locked themselves in a freezer.

Soon after it became irritating, but she wasn't sure if fear ever actually set in. She didn't remember feeling tired…but then again, she couldn't remember anything else. Warrick's earlier comment reentered her mind. Greg's quick thinking had saved them; well, maybe not completely, but it was enough until someone had come to rescue them.

Her eyes slowly closed as her mind began to drift again. She had to wonder if the hospital had given her anything; normally she would be awake at this hour, still working hard. A yawn escaped her lips as she settled down into the comfort of sleep once more.

* * *

"So, now that we're away from the lab, and all the pressure, how are you really feeling?"

She directed the question at him earnestly, having seen through his earlier facade. At work it was all jokes, taunting, and teasing. It was as she had expected, enduring the constant reminders that they had become locked in a freezer. Of course there was more; the questions, the investigation, and Ecklie. In the end it was determined an incident, but the officers on scene were rebuked for leaving the two CSI's unattended, even though they had responded to another incident several miles away.

Sara had left the following morning, stopping of course to check in on the younger CSI that was just a few doors down the hallway from her original room. He had seemed to be doing fine, with promises of being released either that night or early next morning.

That was five days ago. Greg had turned down the offer of time off from work, and though it had upset Grissom who felt he needed the rest, Sara couldn't blame him. She had also turned down the offer of using up medical leave. After everything was said and done, the entire incident sounded much worse than it really had been.

Next to her Greg stepped to the side as a group of three pressed their way through, cutting him off from sight momentarily. She smiled as he rolled his eyes in mock irritation, falling back in step next too her. "I'm doing okay," he reassured her, answering her earlier question.

"Are you sure?" she wondered, taking the time to really look at him. He looked worn down, tired in the least bit.

He shrugged his shoulder, "It doesn't bother me that much. I think about it sometimes, but…I don't know. It doesn't scare me, but for some reason I just can't forget it."

"Well it doesn't help that everyone keeps reminding us every two seconds," she pointed out dimly. It provoked a laugh from him, causing her to do the same in return.

"I never really thanked you, for what you did," Sara told him, slowing their pace. Greg shrugged it off, but she wouldn't let it go that easily. "You did a great job."

"I did what anyone else would have done," he argued.

"I wouldn't have," she was quick to counter him. Greg took in a breath, ready to say something, but decided on letting it go. They walked on together, neither of them saying anything, each lost in their own thoughts about their predicament.

"Pirate show's up ahead," Sara said quietly after a moment of silence had passed between them.

"Tourist trap," Greg argued lightly, "You get caught in there; you won't be coming out anytime soon."

She laughed, giving him a gentle push. "It's not that bad, you just have to know how to handle it." Her hand ran down his arm, stopping when it got to his, watching carefully to see what he would do.

Slowly he lifted his hand, curling his own fingers around hers, holding them firmly, but not too tightly. She couldn't help but smile as he glanced at her playfully, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"So, what do you want to do then?" Sara asked, glancing across the manmade lagoon as they passed by. They had to move further around, as people were already packing the area to see the next showing. Greg held onto her wrist, moving in front of her so that they took up less space, ensuring that they would not become separated in the tangled mass of people.

Once clear of the area he let go, walking alongside of her once more. "What are you up too?"

Sara shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever you want to do," she countered him, grinning as he started shaking his head.

"Don't start that again," he warned. "You've been doing it all night."

"Only because you refuse to give me an answer."

Greg rolled his eyes upward, swaying as he walked. "I'm kind of enjoying this…" he admitted. "It's really nice just too…live; I guess that's what you would call it. Not having to worry about this or that…or trying to stay caught up with the world."

"Very poetic," Sara stated, turning to smile at him.

Greg had pursed his lips, his head shaking. "I'm shutting up now."

"It's okay," she reassured him, "it is nice. It's really nice." She took a moment, taking in a deep breath. "I can't remember the last time I've done something like this. It's a different experience."

"I'd really like to experience the inside of my eyelids right now," Greg commented, earning a laugh from his partner.

"Alright…I'll take you home," Sara smiled, wrapping one arm around his.

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" Greg questioned. "I mean, isn't the guy supposed to take the girl home?"

Sara thought it over before nodding. "Maybe…but I have the keys."

"Of course," Greg rolled his eyes. "Can I drive?" He chirped quickly.

She tilted her head to one side, leaning against him, pretending to mull the idea over. "Hmmm…no."

"Are you ever going to let me drive?" Greg wondered, shaking his head at the same time. "Never mind, don't answer that one."

She could only laugh in response as they made their way through the crowd. "Maybe someday…when I'm completely out of my mind."

"That shouldn't be too much longer," Greg quipped, wincing as she punched him in the shoulder. "You keep that up and I'll need to go back to the hospital."

"I can write you up for that," she warned, her tongue clicking against her teeth.

Greg was shaking his head grinning. "We're not on shift."

It had been Sara's idea, a stroll along on the Strip, taking in the sights they saw daily, but never really stopped to see. Greg had been reluctant at first, having been unable to sleep the past few days. The only good news was that his neighbors were finished remodeling…now all they had to do was move all the furniture back in. Greg kept reassuring himself that it wouldn't be as bad.

Still, Sara had convinced him to come along, promising they wouldn't be out long. Things had changed, and as of now they had easily walked over a mile, but it had been worth it all. He wouldn't trade this night for any other in the world.

* * *

She didn't have too, but she did anyways. The walk wasn't very far, and though it was getting late, she didn't want the night to end. It had started raining earlier, but it wasn't very heavy, and they kept their pace slow, their voices quiet as to not wake any others that may be already asleep.

They came to a stop in front of his door, giving him time to lean back against it, time enough to watch her. She gave him a smile, her hair starting to cling to her face from the drops of water. One landed on her nose, trailing down her skin, falling on her shirt. Greg reached out tentatively, wiping free another drop that came to rest on her cheek.

"You should get going," he spoke quietly, his voice in a whisper. "Before you catch cold."

He was surprised as her hand came over his, clasping it gently. Moving closer to him she came to a stop under the small outcropping roof; it was little more than a pathetic attempt to provide shelter, but at least it was semidry.

This close to him, it felt oddly strange…at the same time it felt wonderful. It was hard to explain, but there was something about him, something that had nagged at her not only this past week, but the last few months now. She had ignored it then, but now it was too strong to pretend that it didn't exist…and it was getting stronger. Watching him move from the lab to the field, watching him move every step of the way, and knowing that she had helped. It was beyond wonderful.

She wasn't sure how it happened, who had started, but the next thing she knew, she was kissing him. She was kissing Greg Sanders…the crazy lab rat, the upbeat field mouse, the one person she had never suspected to have fallen in love with…the one person she never had even looked at before…

Maybe it was a phase, maybe she wasn't thinking clearly. Then again maybe she was actually falling in love, or maybe she already had…there were too many things to think about, too many worries to worry over. But when she pulled away, and looked up into his eyes, she knew…knew that they had become more than friends.

He pulled her back into an embrace, this time the kiss more passionate. The first one had been indifferent, neither of them sure of what was happening. This time they knew, this time he held her close, moving to rest his head on her shoulder after they parted.

"Do you want to come in?" he whispered in her ear.

Sara smiled softly as he rocked her in his arms, closing her eyes. The invitation was tempting, more so than she would like to admit. More than anything she wanted to accept the offer, willing to see where it would lead, and what would happen in the end. Instead she pulled back, shaking her head. Her mind knew logically it wasn't the best of choices; still it hurt to see the regret on his face.

"One thing leads to another," she explained, doing her best to offer him any comfort. "I'm not sure either of us are ready. I don't want to take a chance on ruining this…this, this is really good."

Greg nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment. He knew Sara was right, but he was unwilling to admit it, unwilling to let her win. He forced a smile, his hands still resting on her arms, holding her close. "Tomorrow then?"

She nodded readily, smiling still. "Tomorrow sounds good."

He returned her smile, and they kissed once more, before parting for the night. Greg watched her go, somewhat awed. What was going on exactly? Were they dating…or was it just something special they had shared? He had always liked her, more than words could explain, but he wasn't sure if Sara was returning his feelings, or if she was doing him a favor. At the same time, he had never felt like this before…sure he had dated, he had gone steady before. But it was never like this, it was never this…powerful.

He sighed, watching as she drove off. They would meet again tomorrow…tomorrow, it sounded so far away. Tonight had been a good night, and who knew what tomorrow would bring? He could only hope…hope and pray that things would only get better. Greg smiled to himself, pushing his door open. Things would get better; something inside him told him that they would. For the first time ever, Greg felt as though he were truly alive…yes, things would definitely get better.

**TBC**


	3. Realizations

**Chapter Three: Realizations **

It was nights like this that Sara Sidle hated. Nights where she knew before had that she wouldn't be able sleep, nights that would haunt her dreams, and plague her mind while she was awake. She let out a grim smile, downing the rest of her beer, using an overhand toss to land it in the small garbage can.

To top it all off she had been sent home earlier, Ecklie muttering something about her verbal performance…like the man had never heard profanity before. Sara gripped her hair, bowing her head so that it rested near her elbows, closing her eyes. These cases always stressed her out, and she had a feeling that no amount of therapy would help her.

Help…she didn't need any help; she was fine all on her own. They needed help, the victims; they were the ones crying out for justice. They were the ones that needed the guidance, the man that was stabbed to death, the mother who was strangled…or the little boy beaten to death because no one saw enough sense to get him out of an abusive household. Why could no one understand that he was special?

Four years old…he didn't even have a chance, he was at the mercy of his parents, who were either too drunk to even notice he was there, or so sick-minded that they found beating him a form of entertainment. No one cared that his name was Justin, no one cared that he could have been saved…save for her.

She knew that if one person had spoken up earlier…a babysitter, a neighbor, the preschool he went too. It would have only taken one person to save the little boy…he could be playing with other kids his age, laughing and giggling as they tried to keep their voices down, knowing that they were supposed to be sleeping.

In the morning he could have pancakes, and eggs, spilling his milk as he reached for the salt…he could find a book, and look at the pictures as he started sounding words out, recognizing the letters…

Sara smiled at the thought, but it faded quickly as she realized that was all it was. There would be no more mornings, or nightfall's for the little one…he was in the morgue, and his parents…they were out somewhere, sipping martini's, playing slots. They had never gotten enough evidence to hold them liable, and had no other option than to let the pair go.

Another beer sounded wonderful at the moment, she wasn't even close to being drunk. Sadly she turned her head towards the small garbage can, letting out a sigh when she realized that had been the last beer. Of course, she could drive into town, but what a nightmare that would be. All she needed was another DUI on her record, going to pick up more beer none-the-less. That would fly well with Ecklie.

However a warm bath did sound nice…it had been years since she had taken an actual bath, her apartment only providing a shower. Since moving, not only had her bathroom doubled in size, but it came with a tub, a Jacuzzi in fact. She was anxious to try it out now.

It had been Greg's idea, for her to move into a house. She had disagreed straight away, but he had put logic into the thought. Her apartment building was being closed off, due to improper care from the city. The place would be closed until it was brought up to standard, which could take several months.

The tenants, of course, were given a choice of living in a temporary shelter, or money back on the last month's payment and finding another place. Sara had opted on the second choice, having been fed up with the problems. A few months back they had shut off the water for over a week, and before that, it had been electrical problems.

She had planned on finding another apartment, maybe something a little bigger, but Greg had suggested she move into an actual house. Sara had laughed at him at first, thinking he was teasing her. It was to her surprise to find that he was serious. She had argued with him, giving him countless reasons to why she couldn't, each and every one he dismissed with an answer.

Finally she caved in, and they began their search. The house was small, in the end, she couldn't afford too much, but it was certainly bigger than her apartment. One bedroom, two bathrooms, front room, kitchen, and a small den…she didn't think it was too bad, and the price was manageable. Of course, she would definitely need to watch what she spent. It was further than her last place, from the lab, the town, but it was certainly peaceful. She wondered what it would be like to sleep without hearing the traffic wiz on by.

Sara stretched as she stood, heading down the hall to where the master bathroom was. The other one was a third of the size, a guest bathroom more or less she decided. She stopped in the doorway, gazing around the room. There were boxes still scattered, on the floor, the counter, in the hallway. She was still settling in, and tomorrow Greg was supposed to help her move the rest of her stuff over from her apartment.

Her own house, she let out a laugh as she crossed the room, the tile floor cold against her bare feet. Leaning over she turned the tap on, running her hands under the water as it flowed out. Standing, she shook the excess water off her fingers before drying her hands on her pants, turning around to the face the mirror.

A small smile crossed her lips as studied the picture that was caught in the frame. Greg had stuck a picture of himself up there the other night, claiming that he had been decorating. He was cute, she had to admit, it wasn't a recent picture, but one that had been taken a few years back. He had grown considerably over the years, and he was no longer cute, in a sense, but handsome instead.

She felt her cheeks grow red at the thought, as she reached up to pull her shirt off. They weren't dating, technically, but hung out often as friends. Sara had wanted to push their relationship further, but was afraid to ask, or even mention it. The fear of rejection was too great.

Still, the way he looked at her, it was special. It was a look he reserved for her, and only her. She had never felt quite like she did now, and nothing seemed stronger, but she was afraid of losing something she didn't even have. Letting out a sigh she moved over the tub, turning off the faucet as slid in, the warm water enveloping her.

She hadn't seen Greg that night, unless you counted the two minutes at the beginning of shift where they had only changed eye contact. Sadly she missed him, and as much as she wanted to see him, she wanted to be alone. Tonight wasn't going very well for her, and she was afraid of saying something she would regret, whether or not she meant truly meant it.

Her eyes grazed the clock on the bathroom wall, frowning. He was still working anyways, and with her now gone, there was a possibility that he would be pulling a double. She would see him tomorrow, at any rate, unless of course he was too tired to help her move like he promised.

Sinking down into the water she closed her eyes, relishing in the comfort of her new home.

* * *

Her hair was still wet, but it wasn't much of a bother as Sara pulled it back in a bun, wrapping the tie around three different times. She had been right, about taking a bath, it had been calming, and somehow she didn't feel as bad. Sure, she still felt miserable, but not so much anymore. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair lightly, trying to flatten it against her head, but with little luck.

Finally she gave up, moving to turn the light off as a thud sounded off her window. Sara turned, frowning as she glanced outside, in-between the curtains. There was nothing there, and why should there be? With the foundation dropping just past her house, there was about a ten foot drop just outside her window.

Sara shook it off, it was windy after all, the sound could have come from anywhere. She turned again, this time getting further than the last time before the sound came again. Now, it was intriguing, and bit…frightening. Sara stepped closer to the window, peering outside.

It was hard to see anything really; though the hour had crossed over into morning it was still dark outside, and the fact that clouds covered the sky didn't help at all. Pressing her face against the window she studied the ground below, watching for any sign at that someone was out there.

Another thud against the window surprised her, and she drew back quickly, letting out a breath before pushing the window open, glancing downward. She shook her at the sight, as the man below waved up at her, grinning.

"What are you doing?" she scolded, leaning against the frame.

"I came to see you," Greg explained, shrugging his shoulders. He rolled the rocks from one hand to the other, before tossing them onto the ground.

"Yeah…have you ever heard of the door? You know, knock on it, someone answers."

"Tried it," Greg explained, a grin still crossing his face. "Saw the light on in the bathroom, figured you were making yourself beautiful or something."

"Right," Sara rolled her eyes, laughing softly. "Like I ever do that."

"True," Greg nodded, still watching her. "You're beautiful just as you are."

Sara felt herself blush, and turned away. He was always so charming, and she never really had anything to offer him. Quickly she shook the feeling off, leaning back out the window.

"Are you going to let me in?" Greg wondered, calling up to her.

Sara gave him a sad smile, shaking her head. "I don't think tonight would be the best time," she confessed, "It's been a long day."

His eyes dropped, as he tilted his head to one side. "You tell me that I came all this way just to get a cold shoulder? I could have gotten that from Catherine."

"Don't look at me like that," Sara whined softly. It always made her melt, made her give in so easily. "You know I don't like it."

"Precisely why I do it," Greg chimed quickly, grinning once again. "Let me in, please?"

"Fine," Sara shook her head, unbelieving that she was already giving in. "I'll tell you what, if you really want in, you have to climb up here. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."

"That's all I have to do?" Greg questioned, studying the height, his eyes skimming the rocky wall that supported the end of the house.

Sara nodded, feeling somewhat guilty, she hated turning him away like this, but she knew that he had to be tired. In the end it would be the best for both of them. It was to her surprise as Greg let out shrug, muttering an 'okay' as he moved forward. His hands reached above his head, reaching for any outcropping rocks as he pulled himself up.

"What are you doing?" Sara cried, leaning over further to watch as he made his way up.

"Coming in," was his gruff reply, and Sara let out a gasp as his one hand slipped. He was quick to regain his composure, still continuing with his ascent.

"Fine I'll let you, just get down before you kill yourself," Sara pleaded, watching as he pulled himself further up, reaching with his free hand to find another hold.

"I'm almost there," he huffed, digging his foot into the side.

Sara bit her lip, shaking her head. "Greg, you're insane, get down now! I was joking, please…"

He didn't reply, only continuing with is climb, he was almost there now, and Sara found herself reaching out the window. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling up as pushed with his feet, rolling through the window and onto the floor.

Sara collapsed next to him, her legs crossing as she let out a sigh, her head resting in her hand. "You are insane; you do know that, don't you?"

"You're the one who suggested it," Greg pointed out, pushing himself up on his elbows. He reached over with one hand, cupping her chin as he pulled her down. The kiss was light, and brief, as Sara pulled away. She had promised herself she wasn't going to let this start, not tonight. Greg watched her questioningly, and Sara gave him a reassuring smile as she climbed to her feet, offering Greg a hand.

"Well…since you're here now…can I get you anything? A cup of coffee, a glass of water…some common sense maybe?"

"I'm unique Sara," Greg complained, following her out of the bathroom. "I can never be common."

"That's for sure," she muttered under her breath. "Why are you here?"

"I heard what happened," Greg confessed, taking a seat on her old couch, "I wanted to see if you were okay."

Sara gave him a smile as she sat herself down next to him, leaning against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm doing okay," she nodded, "just tired."

Greg agreed with her, letting out a sigh of his own. His fingers had snaked around, closing around her own. Sara let out a laugh as his other hand ran up her back, and she pushed herself up, turning towards him. She grabbed both his hands by the wrist, shaking her head.

"We're just friends," she reminded him, sadden by the look he took next.

Greg nodded in agreement, turning away from her gaze. "I know…but I was hoping…"

Sara tilted her head, urging him to finish his sentence. Instead he shook his head, sitting up. "It's nothing…I should be headed home now, I'll meet up with you tomorrow."

Sara jumped off the couch as he took off, following him to the door. She hated to see him go, but she realized dimly it was what she had been trying to do from the start, and now she regretted it. Greg paused just outside the doorway, on the welcome mat and turned back to her.

Their lips met once more, this time the kiss more passionate than before, and when Greg pulled back they were both breathing heavy. Sara leaned against the opened door, watching him with a sad smile. "Greg…what were you going to say?"

The younger man shrugged, his hands sliding into his pockets. "It's nothing, just a thought."

"I'd like to hear it," she pressed him, smiling when he tilted his head again. His gaze was soft, the gentle stare she had not only gotten used to, but the one she also enjoyed so much.

Before he could answer the skies opened up, and rain was coming down in waves. Greg glanced up, before turning away quickly, shielding his eyes from the water. "I should get going before I have swim home," he told her jokingly.

"It can be dangerous," she answered back, "Heavy rains, the roads will flood. You still have a drive ahead of you. Maybe you should stay here for the night."

"As tempting as that sounds both you and I know that's not a logical idea," Greg pointed out.

"It'd make me feel better," Sara argued, "I won't be able to sleep knowing you're out in this. Besides, you're already soaked; you'd ruin your car."

"A little water never hurt anyone," Greg argued, grinning at her comeback.

"A lot can kill you," she returned his grin, lacing her fingers around his arm and pulling him in gently, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

"Give me your clothes Greg," Sara let out a sigh, resting one hand on her hip as she held out the other.

"I'm really not in that kind of mood," Greg argued, wiping the water out of his eyes. He had only been in the downpour for a few minutes, but he was soaked to the bone. The excess water was dripping off him, into a puddle on the floor of the bathroom.

"You're not sleeping in those," she shot back, her hand still held out. "Give me your clothes, then take a warm shower. I can get us something to eat by the time you're done."

Grumbling Greg pulled his sweater over his head, followed by his t-shirt, handing them to the insistent brunette who stood but two feet away, watching him strip. "You know, this is the first time I've ever stripped for anyone, I'm a little out of practice. I was saving it for the clubs, but just for you…"

Sara rolled her eyes, wadding up the clothes into a ball as Greg slipped his shoes off, unbuttoning his pants. He pulled the white towel around his waist, kicking his pants off onto the floor. Sara grabbed them with one hand, picking his shoes up with the other as she placed them on top of the pile.

"All your clothes," Sara cleared her throat, nodding towards him. It was cute, the sudden way he turned three shades of red.

"I think you have enough to keep you busy," Greg stammered, shaking his head. He was freezing at the moment, quite naked, save for his boxers and the skinny towel he was clutching with both hands.

"You're not sleeping in wet underwear," Sara frowned, "Off with the tighty-whiteys."

"Sorry," Greg shrugged his shoulders, "as an amateur stripper, this is as far as I go. Besides, I wear boxers, thank you very much."

"I've already seen everything," Sara reminded him, "besides you have a towel on. Plus, the longer you keep this argument up, the longer it's going to be before you can get warmed up. It's really you're choice."

Greg let out a hesitant sigh, closing his eyes. "Fine, no peeking, I deserve my privacy."

Sara rolled her eyes, turning around so that her back was facing them. "Just hurry it up; I'm getting wet from holding your clothes."

"There," Greg declared confidently behind her. "They're all yours. I'll do you a favor and keep quiet about your boxer snatching fetish."

"Thanks," Sara muttered, leaning down to pick them up. She made a face as she held them gingerly, as though they would break.

"They're clean," Greg insisted, shooing her out of the bathroom. "Besides, you're the one who wanted them."

She shook her head, smiling as she turned towards him. "They'll be ready in an hour or so."

"An hour?" Greg exclaimed briefly, leaning against the door. He used one hand to support himself, The other to hold the towel up. "What exactly am I supposed to wear until then?"

Sara shrugged, glancing at him. "You do look dashing in just a towel," she suggested.

Greg raised an eyebrow, frowning at her. "Who uses the word dashing anymore?"

"Well…a lot of people, if you think about it. Dashing can also mean running."

"Great…you think I look runny in a towel…" Greg met her steady gaze with his own, laughing at the end. Sara only shook her head, walking down the hall. Greg watched for a moment, before pulling back inside, closing the door behind him, as he let out a sigh.

He doubted that there was any possibly way for that to have been more uncomfortable than it had been. Another shiver coursed through his body, and he hurried forward towards the shower, eager to warm himself up.

He smiled as the warm water coursed over him, savoring in the feel. The thought had just occurred to him…he was spending the night with Sara…he couldn't help but grin at the thought. He was spending the night with Sara…

**TBC**


	4. Dowanrd Spiral

**Chapter Four: Downward Spiral**

Catherine glanced up at her younger colleague as she came into the room, a slight bounce in her step. She didn't say anything in greeting, but instead handed the results over to her, taking a seat across from her. The brunette hadn't said much all day, but Catherine could tell easily enough she was in a good mood, after all, Sara hadn't pushed any boundaries all day, even after Catherine had left her with the tedious task of collecting and tagging numerous sets of fingerprints off a vending machine.

She studied them briefly, noting with approval how nicely Sara had done her work; there had been too many prints to count, but Sara had managed to separate quite a handful, and for her work, had come up with three hits. To this, Catherine shook her head; even with all that work it still wouldn't give them much…

She glanced up at Sara, who was absorbed in her own copy of the report, humming softly to herself as she flipped through the pages. It was very peculiar for Sara, especially since Ecklie had berated her in front of the lab a few days back, sending her home because of her appearance. Sara was one who wasn't quick to forgive, her own stubbornness evidently seen by complete strangers. But now, it was as if the incident had never happened…

Of course, Catherine had her own suspicions…it hadn't been intentional, of course. She hadn't planned to drive by Sara's place the same exact moment she had been kissing Greg Sanders…

She suppressed a smile; she knew they had been spending quite a bit of time together, but had never thought of the pair being...intimate. The only surprise came in that neither of the pair had said a word about it. Sara she could see being quite about it, but Greg, on the other hand…

Knowing the vibrant lab-tech turned CSI, there was no way he would be able to keep quite about something of this magnitude…which left her to suspect that maybe they weren't as close as she assumed…

She cleared her throat, her curiosity getting the best of her. Part of her knew she shouldn't interfere, that their relationship was personal, but the burning need to know wasn't going to stop until it was satisfied.

"You know," Catherine started, struggling to find the right words to say. She had no problem talking about her own relationships to others, but inquiring about someone else's? Especially considering they weren't the best of friends.

Sara glanced up at her as she continued. "I was going to drop the case file off at your place the other day…but when I got there, you weren't alone…"

Sara returned her remark with a smile, diverting her attention back to the reports she held in her hand. "Fred Willerman's prints were the most distinct, hard contact. He was pounding the machine for one reason or another, and he has a record…looks like he has some anger management problems."

"You're not getting out of this that easily," Catherine chuckled, unsurprised by the smirk that crossed her face. "Are you two…?"

She left the question unfinished, but with enough implication to what she meant. Sara shook her head quickly, yet another cheesy way of trying to dodge the question. So she had answered it…with minimal limitations of course.

Catherine prodded further, after all there had to be an explanation. "Not a bad choice you know; Greg…he's cute, and charming…in an annoying sort of way, but if you like that…"

"We're just friends," Sara cut her off, earning a smile from the older woman. Sara bit her tongue, knowing that Catherine now had her where she wanted, and was quickly regretting that she had taken the bait so easily.

Catherine nodded; accepting this statement, but still gave her a frown. Her voice changed as she drew in a breath, "You know…when you have something good going for you, go for it, when opportunity shows itself. Because if you don't…you'll lose that chance, and you'll regret it. I know I did…I still do."

Sara glanced up at her questioningly, but the older woman had already left the room, leaving her to dwell in her own silence. Shakily she ran a hand through her hair, holding her breath as she did so. Was there really a possibility…her thoughts turned to what Greg had started to tell her the other night, and never finished. Was he going to say what she wanted to hear, what she had been imagining in her deepest daydreams?

Sara shook her head, laughing bitterly to herself. Who was she trying to kid, her and Greg? It would never work…but what if Catherine was right? What if there was a possibility, and she let it pass by? Would she always be left wondering what could have happened?

Her eyes grazed the clock, watching the second hand tick by. She was running out of time, and there was only one sure way of ever knowing. Still the fear was overwhelming. She had tried once before, with someone she thought she loved, and it had broken her heart. It had been hard to learn to let go, and try again, only resulting in another mess. Relationships never worked for her…maybe it was best to forget about it. She and Greg were good friends, why ruin it?

* * *

"What are we looking for again?" Greg asked quietly, opening the manila envelope. He pulled out the stack of papers, dropping them on the table as slid the envelope back into the crate Warrick had set on the table.

"Complaints, charges…any problems the club may have had. This is their daily log of phone calls, customers, situations that came up for the last six months. You'll need to check each day, see if anything odd comes up."

Greg frowned lightly, turning to look up at the other man. "Warrick, this is a fetish club…what would you define as odd?"

He took a moment to laugh, taking in consideration the question given to him, already pulling out a stack for himself. "Don't go there; your definition and my definition of odd are two different things."

Greg returned the comment with a frown, opening his mouth to respond, only to realize he had nothing to say. Instead he turned his gaze back down to the papers he held in his hands, the words blurring before him. He blinked several times, shaking his head. He was getting tired, and he was beginning to lose focus. What was even worse was that they were chasing dead ends now. It was simple dumb luck that the club handed over their records…they would have never gotten a warrant for them. Greg knew he was still learning as far as it came to being out in the field, but this he wasn't sure of.

After all, their victim wasn't found in the club, the only tie they had was a slip of paper in the victim's pocket that had the address jotted down on it. Warrick suspected that it had started there, but they had no proof of that fact.

Greg was already on the second page when he glanced up, knowing that they were no longer the only two there. He smiled, watching as Sara stood in the doorway, her coat draped over her arms. Her head tilted to the side, returning his smile.

"You two having fun?" she asked sweetly, laughing when Greg rolled his eyes.

"The most I've had all night," Warrick responded without looking up. Greg's smile faded as he glanced back down at the documents. The last thing he wanted was to be chided in front of Sara for not doing his work. He had been trying so hard lately to cover everything, doing his best not to mess up. He wanted to prove his capability to work out in the field, wanted to prove that all the work that Grissom and the others had done to get him out of the lab wasn't in vain. Not to mention how embarrassing it would be, and Sara would never let him live it down.

"You mind if I borrow Greg for a moment?"

"You can keep him if you want to," Warrick shot back, his tone evident that he was teasing. Even still Greg scowled, turning to the older man as Sara laughed, stepping back into the hallway.

"You know, I once heard about a case, quite some time ago that makes me think of this. The lead CSI said something of the same manner to his partner, and the little grasshopper never returned. Guess who ended up doing all of the work?"

Warrick's smile was uneven, but firm as he responded. "Yeah, and if you don't come back, I'll hunt down your skinny grasshopper butt and pin you up on Grissom's wall."

"He would enjoy that," Sara butted in, still lingering just outside the room. Both men turned, but it was Greg who responded.

"Who? Me or him?"

Sara gave them both a smile, but didn't reply, motioning for Greg to follow, who did after a short moment. They found themselves walking down the hall, and Greg had to marvel in her silence. She seemed….nervous, it's the only word he could come up to describe her appearance.

She turned towards him suddenly, reaching out to grasp one of his free hands, giving it a squeeze. He returned the gesture, smiling as he watched her, but raised an eyebrow at the same time.

"Is everything okay?"

Sara nodded, blushing as she turned away. "I…I just thought you could use a short break…you look beat."

Greg chuckled, shaking his head as he looked up towards the ceiling. "I'm fine…but if I keep stopping to take breaks I'll never finish with my work."

She let out a breath, looking back at him. "I was just…well, when you get off, if you felt up too it…"

Greg nodded, encouraging her on, resisting the urge to start laughing. Sara was tripping over her own words, and it was cute. She drew in another deep breath, holding it for a minute.

"Would you like to have dinner tonight? With me…I mean…at my place?"

"I would like that," Greg grinned, glancing over his shoulder before turning back. "I should be getting back though, if you ever want me to make it."

"Okay," she breathed, giving his hand one last squeeze. She watched him walk down the hall, letting out a happy sigh. She was going to do it…tonight she was going to tell him…tell him that she wanted to be more…more than just friends.

* * *

He should have been out of there twenty minutes ago. So why he was still here was beyond him. Sara was waiting, and though Warrick had told him to pack up, Greg couldn't find a place to really stop. He grumbled, letting out a sigh as he slid the last paper back into the folder, dropping it in the crate. Enough was enough already, but his thoughts warmed as he thought of Sara, knowing she was waiting.

A smile crossed his face as he made his way to the locker room. Perhaps he was a little more excited than he should be, after all, it was just dinner. They had plenty of dinners before; it wasn't like this one would be any different. Still, the simple thought of seeing her, he couldn't help but smile.

"Sanders?"

Greg turned, wishing he hadn't at the last minute. Why did he always have to listen? It was a curse, and he knew when he saw Ecklie coming up towards him, that whatever the man had to say wouldn't be good. Greg shifted his stance, sighing as he slid his hands into his pockets. He could only imagine what the other man had to say.

Ecklie normally had a lot to say, when it concerned someone, and a handful of trouble. He seemed as normal as ever, maybe not as irritated…

"You're headed out?" Ecklie questioned quietly, "already?"

Greg nodded, his lips pressing. "I worked my hours and then some, so yes…I'm headed out."

"You closed the case?"

He shook his head, doing his best not to roll his eyes. He could scarcely believe that Ecklie expected him to finish everything by himself tonight. It was unrealistic.

"At any rate…the DNA lab's backed up, Mia's…"

"Sick," Greg cut him off, "I know. She's been out for the last three days now."

"Very good, you noticed. Did you also notice that none of the work is getting done?"

"Hodges is just going to have to work over," Greg started, but Ecklie cut him off.

"No one works as fast as you," the older man shook his head, rubbing the side of his nose one finger.

"Wow…" Greg tilted his head to one side, "is that a compliment?"

"About as close as you'll ever get," Ecklie nodded towards him. "The lab needs to catch up, and you can't expect one person to do it all."

"So you're asking me," Greg let out a sigh, this time rolling his eyes.

"Telling you, more or less, your new assignment."

"I haven't even finished my current one," Greg blurted out in disbelief.

"I'm sure you'll manage," Ecklie told him walking away, "until then, you don't work out in the field until the lab is caught up."

* * *

Sara could feel her heart pounding as she ran her fingers shakily through her hair. It fluffed up at the end, making her groan as she reached behind, trying to flatten it, but in the end it just turned back up.

Letting it pass for the moment, Sara took a step back, taking a long look in the mirror. Maybe she had overdone it…a long, flowing black dress that ended near her ankles, her high heels giving her some height…and all the makeup…

Sara blushed, turning away from the mirror. This wasn't her…she felt strange wearing it all, but she wanted to surprise Greg…she bit her lip. Hopefully he would be surprised…how embarrassing would it be if he came in laughing?

Her eyes trailed back up to the mirror, as she turned sideways, one hand resting on her stomach. It didn't make her look…fat…did it? Maybe she should forget about the whole thing? It really wasn't worth going through all this trouble, was it? Besides…Greg would show up, dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He would feel very awkward, end even more out of place than she was…

She let out a soft gasp, as the door bell rang, stumbling halfway through the bathroom before resorting to kicking off her shoes, running the rest of the way on tiptoes. Greg would have used the spare key, so that meant it could only be the food.

Chinese…it was the best choice, the easiest. She knew Greg adored Chinese, and though it wasn't her favorite choice, it was still good. Once arriving home, she had spent nearly an hour pouring through the phone book, before finding a restaurant she was satisfied with. The price she would worry about later, all she could focus on now was the coming night.

She paid the deliver, cringing even as she gave him a tip, for his services of course, not his flattering, yet discourteous remarks about her own appearance. Sara was beyond thankful they were having the dinner at her place, and not out in public. To imagine, going out, dressed like this? She had laugh.

The dress she was wearing was years old, a present, from one of her earlier boyfriends who had wanted her to dress up more. She had only worn it once before…and somehow, she remembered it being…not as tight.

She dropped the bags on the table, moving over to gather up what plates she had. They weren't in the first box she checked in, neither were they in the next. She finally settled on paper plates…it made for easier cleanup in the end.

It wouldn't be too much longer until Greg arrived; knowing him he probably stopped by his place, either to shower or grab a change of clothes. Sara was quick to dish the food out onto the plates, setting them on the small table. The last feature, of course, was the candles, which she lit, watching the flames flicker for a moment. Letting out a peaceful sigh she walked backwards, her one arm reaching out to turn the dial on the overhead lights, casting the dining room into semi-darkness. This would be the perfect night, she thought quietly; now all she had to do was wait…

* * *

It was unfair, to say the least. There was no way Greg could work on both the active case, and catch DNA up. Hodges hadn't done his fair share, but little more. Of course, he could blame Mia for it all, but it really wasn't fair, or right to do so. Blaming Ecklie was a completely different matter. The only incentive was that he would get massive overtime pay for all of this.

Greg rubbed his eyes wearily, pushing through the work that lay before him. He wasn't too far from being done actually. It wasn't as much as that he was fast, but more so time efficient. He started with projects that took the longest, getting them started, and in the mean while prepping other samples so that they were ready to go.

Greg let out a yawn, glancing at the clock to check the time. He knew Sara was waiting for him, but he came to a dead stop as he watched the second hand tick by. It couldn't be right…he let out a shaky laugh. Of course it couldn't be right. There was no possible way he had worked that many hours straight…could it?

Taking one last look he checked his samples, making sure they'd be okay on their own before sliding out of the chair. His legs were stiffed, cramped more or less, and he worked to stretch them out.

As he walked down the hall the eerie feeling continued to grow in his stomach as the realization set in. Not only had he missed the dinner with Sara, but he was late for his next shift as well.

"Nice of you join," Warrick comment lightly as he leaned against the door. Greg cursed himself quietly, thumping his head against the frame. It was then Warrick looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "You've been busy…?"

"Ecklie's been working me in DNA all night…I didn't realize the time," Greg started to apologize, but stumbled over his words. He took a breath, shaking his head. "Give me twenty minutes, I'll clean up the lab and catch up with you."

He was surprised when Warrick shook his head. "Take the time you need, you don't want Ecklie on your bad side. I can handle this on my own, but I'll need you when we head back out."

Greg nodded his thanks, not once about to argue. At least DNA was more exciting than…documents. Fighting off a yawn he trailed back to his old lab, taking a seat once more. Sad thing was none of his stuff was here anymore…no magazines, no coffee…he had made sure to hide it well once moving out into the field. Letting out another yawn he folded his arms on the tabletop, resting his head there as he closed his eyes.

* * *

She wasn't supposed to be in today, and had long been looking forward to her night off, but she couldn't wait, not any more. She had waited all night, had watched the candles burn away, had watched as the steam stopped floating off the food.

Of course, she had called him, knowing full well that work could get in the way sometimes, but there was no answer. He wasn't at his place either. Sara was worried then, until she got Warrick, who replied simply that Greg was in working. Warrick had gone home that night, to his own wife…and Greg couldn't even spare a moment to come see her.

She fought off the tears…she had done enough crying last night…right after blowing the candles out. Continuing on down the hall she ignored the looks from the others. He wasn't hard to find, but he was somewhere she didn't expect.

Greg looked up quickly as she came in, already moving to apologize but Sara cut him off. "Don't," she shook her quietly.

"Ecklie had me working Sara, there wasn't much I could do," Greg explained quietly, but Sara was still shaking her head.

"One call," she told him, her voice wavering. "Communication Greg…that's all I'm asking. Until then…don't bother trying to talk to me."

She was gone before Greg could say much else, and he sat there bewildered. He wanted to go after her, wanted to tell her that he was sorry, wanted so much to take everything back…but he no longer could. What was done was done. He felt slightly sick, and he knew that it wasn't because he was tired.

Resting his head on one upturned hand he tapped the table top with his pen, wishing desperately that the machines would hurry up. There was only so much he could do, and he was running out of time. He looked up, expecting to see Sara walking in…not really expecting, more like hoping that it was her. So it wasn't to far off that he was disappointed to see that it was Ecklie.

"I see you're catching up on things," he commented, watching the younger man yawn once again.

"It's a good thing I'm getting paid for it," Greg muttered dryly.

"You're not really expecting the lab to pay you for all of this, do you?"

Greg looked up at him, astonished, "You can't be serious?"

"You'll be paid for Mia's regular hours, but nothing other than that. After all, it was your choice to work on your own time."

"It's not like you gave me a fair choice," Greg shot back, at the moment not caring what position he was putting himself in.

"Funny thing about choices, is that we are the ones to make them. I expect the lab to be caught up until Mia returns. Don't feel to bad," Ecklie commented, the smug look on his face looking as though he was about to pat himself on the back, "you can take one for the team every so often. Don't be so greedy."

If there was a possibility of feeling worse than worse…now was the time. Greg sat in stunned silence, watching as Ecklie left the office, catching quickly up with Grissom. How could be so easily conned? Turning back to face the table he let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be one long night…

* * *

He wasn't sure why he was stopping, he wasn't really hungry, but he knew he had to eat something, and he wanted something quick, something he didn't have to fight traffic for. The small convenience store was on the way home, and fairly quiet most of the time.

The warm lingering smell greeted him, moments before the store keeper, who gave him a short wave. "Haven't seen you here in a while," he chuckled, to which Greg nodded.

"I've been busy," he commented, walking down the second isle. Soup didn't sound particularly good, but it was quick and more than easy. He selected a pair, heading back up to the front of the store, pausing as the man wiped down the counter.

"With Sara?" he asked, laughing as Greg frowned.

"I told you Charlie, nothing's going on between us," Greg shook his head, trying not to smile, but it was quickly failed. He laughed himself, setting his keys down on the counter as he pulled out several bills.

"I've heard that expression before," Charlie laughed, taking the money Greg handed him. "You haven't been in here in over a week now, and you used to be like clockwork. The only thing that can knock a guy off his routine is a girl, trust me kid, I know this."

"Do you?" Greg questioned, "Site your source."

"For me to know, and you to find out," he turned away, waving a short goodbye. Greg only shook his head; leave it to his old friend to make things even more confusing. He was about to leave, but came to a pause when his eyes caught sight of something.

"How much are the roses?" Greg wondered, stepping closer to the fresh bunch.

"1.99 each or ten for a dozen," Charlie rambled off, without turning around. It was as if he had been asked that question all day long, and Greg could easily believe it. Plucking one from the barrel he handed him the rest of the change, laughing as he shook his head.

"You're shorting me man," Charlie scolded him, pulling several coins out of the tray on the counter.

"You know I'm good for it," Greg smiled, tipping the flower towards him.

"In trouble with the girl?"

"No…" Greg replied slowly, before catching himself. "Never, just thought it'd be nice for her."

Charlie nodded, unamused, rubbing the short beard with one hand. "You had a fight, didn't you? You may want to get more of those then."

"Sorry," Greg turned from him, "No money."

He said a short goodbye, realizing how much he missed the older man. They had met a few years back, and Greg had made a point of stopping near every night. Until recently, that was. Sara was indeed a distraction…not that he was complaining. He was hoping that she would become more…interactive in his life, actually become a part of it, rather than someone outside of everything.

He brushed past another man while working his way, glancing back over his shoulder. Some people truly did shock him, the man not even calling back an apology. Greg shook it off, wanting nothing more than to be home now. Coming to a stop he let out a curse, realizing his keys were still inside on the counter…that was if he was lucky. By now, Charlie had probably hid them already.

Setting the bag on the top of his car Greg made his way back in, his hands resting in his pockets. An extra trip wasn't something he wanted, he was just trying to make it home…

Pushing the door back open with one free hand he had gotten only a few steps inside, stopping at the sight in front of him. The man he had brushed past earlier was standing directly in front of the counter, his revolver pointed at Charlie. For a moment, no one moved, and Greg stood stunned, unsure if this was actually happening, or if he had gone delusional.

"Look out," Charlie's cry came, but it was much to late, as Greg already saw the second guy coming up from behind. At the same moment, the one with gun turned towards him, the sound of gunfire echoing through the store.

**TBC**


	5. Nighttime Troubles

**Chapter Five: Nighttime Troubles**

The yellow tape glittered under the street lights, a light wind tugging at the stray ends. Warrick made his way under the tape, holding it up for Nick who was not too far behind. They had received the call little more than twenty minutes ago, but had only been informed on the way there that Greg had been somehow involved. It left him to worry; unsure of what he would find when he arrived.

Brass had waved them over, even as he finished talking with an on-scene officer. Warrick waited to be briefed, taking his time to survey the area. The storefront was a mess; blood spatter could be seen on the sidewalk, a trail of blood leading to just inside the store. The body was a few feet away from the main entrance, dressed in black, with a matching ski mask. However, his eyes didn't stop trailing until they landed on the small silver car, the one he knew to be Greg's.

"Talked to the storeowner, says it was a robbery, there were two of them. One escaped on foot, I have some boys looking for him now, our gun handler wasn't so lucky. Storeowner says the gun fired when he attempted to take it from the guy's hand."

"Not the smartest thing to do," Nick commented, wetting his lips as he asked the long awaited question. "Greg?"

There wasn't more to be asked, and Brass motioned over their heads, causing the pair to turn around. The ambulance was still sitting just off the side of the road, lights flashing, the back doors hanging open. "He took a knocker to the head, paramedics are still assessing him, but he should be fine. Concussion at the most; apparently he interrupted our robbers, they weren't too happy."

Nothing serious; Warrick nodded gratefully, turning back towards the detective. "Wouldn't surprise me. You talk to him yet?"

"Not yet, paramedics haven't let me in," Brass shrugged at Warrick's questioning gaze, "They're a little…stingy."

Nick's lips turned up in a smile, glancing sideways at his partner. "I'll take the store then," he called lightly, pulling on his gloves.

"I'll see if I can get a statement from Greg," Warrick waited until Nick had started processing, watching the Texan work carefully, before turning around himself. The ambulance wasn't too far away; in fact it was a little closer than he would have liked. If something happened with the scene, the vehicle would be right in the middle. He shook his head, coming to a stop, wondering when some people would learn.

Warrick wasted no time in introducing himself to the man onboard, who in turn paid vague attention toward him. It wasn't until he told the paramedic that he needed to speak with Greg that he answered back. "It'll have to wait, he needs his rest."

He said it monotonously, not even making eye contact with him, busying himself with cleaning, closing the kit before him.

"It won't take long," Warrick stated, not moving from the spot. The paramedic growled, his face turned in a scowl. "Look," Warrick tried again, "This is a crime scene investigation, I need to talk with anyone that was involved."

"Whatever," he huffed, jumping down to the pavement. He didn't give him a second glance as he passed him by. Warrick took in a quick description as he walked by, keeping it in mind. He would do well to report it later.

The inside of the ambulance was dimly light, one small overhead light on. Greg was on his side, stretched out on the gurney. His eyes were closed, and he made no attempt to look at whoever had entered, at first it seemed as though he was asleep.

Warrick let that idea slide though, when he could hear his uneven breathing…Greg was awake, and obviously hurting. It wasn't a surprise, the white clothed bandage around his head was stained dark red, above his eye, around towards the back of his head.

Easing himself down in makeshift seat, Warrick studied the younger CSI for a moment. Greg must have sensed that someone was there, even though nothing had been said. His eyes opened a crack, focusing in on the man in front of him.

Warrick leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, moving into his line of sight. Greg blinked several times, staring at him. It was alarming to see, a few hours ago the two had exchanged goodnights; Greg had been upbeat then, on the tired side, but still going.

Now…now his eyes were clouded over, as if he were watching him through a haze. Warrick supposed it was possible the medic had given him something to dull the pain. He gave the younger man a reassuring smile as his eyes cleared, Greg clearing his throat as he leaned his head back down on the pillow.

"Hey man," Warrick nodded towards him, watching as his eyes closed once more.

Greg responded with a weak comment in return, drawing in a deep, slow breath. He reached up with a hand towards his head, laying his fingers gently on the bandage. The blood soaked through the cloth and onto his fingers, and Greg scoffed quietly as he pulled them away.

"You know," Warrick started, anything to distract him, "when I said we needed to get back out into the field, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Greg laughed quietly, something that pleased him. Surely he couldn't be all that bad off. "I know…" he opened his eyes again, this time staring at nothing in general. "You know me though…I couldn't resist."

"How are you doing?" Warrick asked, laughing at his last response. So maybe it wasn't the best question to asked, but it was almost…instinctive.

Greg let out a low groan, his only answer as his gaze drifted towards the ceiling. "They say I have a concussion…Grissom's not going to let me work."

"Not for a few days," Warrick nodded, "You're going to have to take it easy."

"We're in the middle of a case…"

"I'm in the middle of two cases," Warrick warded him off the topic. "Can you tell me what happened?"

He let out a sigh, his eyes drifting shut. It was quiet then, and at first he assumed the younger man had fallen asleep, but he was shaking his head next. "I can't really remember…"

"Anything would help."

"I…I stopped by to pick some stuff up," he started, trailing off quietly.

"Can you give me a time?"

He frowned, swallowing. "What time is it now?"

Warrick checked his watch, relying off the time. Greg took in the information quietly, shaking his head once again. "I don't know really…fifteen minutes after I left work I guess…"

"How long where you in the store?"

"Awake or unconscious?"

Warrick laughed, shaking his head. "As far as you can remember. Until the robbers showed up, let's start there."

Greg shook his head, sighing. "I honestly don't remember…I only saw one of them, he had a gun, small handgun, he was up at the counter….is Charlie alright?"

"Charlie?" Warrick inquired, his brow furling.

"Storekeeper," Greg rasped, coughing. "He owns the store…"

"Yeah," Warrick gave him a nod, "Brass is with him now."

Greg let out a sigh, seemingly content now. "I remember the gun going off…and I couldn't think…"

"Its okay man, it's over," Warrick cut him off, reaching over to give him a small pat on the shoulder. "You're going to be okay. Someone's on their way to get you, so just take it easy."

"I thought it was all over…and then I woke up here, and I was so thankful…"

Warrick nodded, "It's a natural instinct Greg…you're lucky."

"Someone's dead Rick," Greg told him quietly. "And more could have been hurt, and someone's still on the loose."

"I know," Warrick agreed, folding his hands together. "I know, we'll get him. Don't worry. Just get some rest, you'll be home soon."

Greg gave him a thumbs up as he left the vehicle, Warrick stopping to breathe the fresh air once outside. With that out of the way he felt much better than he first had; and now with the questions out of the way, all that was left was the answers.

**TBC**


	6. Comfort

**Chapter Six: Comfort**

The chilliness of the air struck her first, as soon as her feet hit the pavement, the sound of her door closing echoing through the empty air. The lights from the storefront held steady, a fierce disparity from the ones atop of the cars, the ambulance. Red and blue flashes, lighting up the darkened street.

A group of civilians had gathered, watching quietly from behind the yellow tape, soft murmurs being traded between them. Sara worked her way through the crowd, slipping under the tape despite those who had tried to warn her, a few moving to grab her even. Brass hadn't been too far away when seeing this, shooing them away as he guided Sara in to the scene.

"There is a reason why you wear vest Sidle," he warned her, taking a quick mental note of a male civilian that had chosen to run his mouth off. "You can't just wander into a crime scene like this, it gives invitation to others to do the same."

"I'm not here to work the scene," Sara countered him, pulling free of his light hold. She appreciated his efforts to help, but she didn't need an escort. "Grissom called about Greg…"

Unable to finish she grew silent, prompting Brass to nod. He pointed over his shoulder without even turning around; he had gotten the call from Grissom himself that he was sending someone over. Greg wasn't being transported to the hospital, and at the current moment, his vehicle was evidence in a homicide. The poor man would be lucky to get his car back within a few days, let alone a week.

Sara muttered her thanks even as she left, not giving him a second glance. Sara was like that sometimes, here one minute, gone the next. The detective had learned to live with it, after all it wasn't like he worked with her often, the CSI's had to deal with it more than he did.

He moved in closer, keeping an eye on Nick who was interviewing the store owner. Normally he made an effort to be part of the questioning, but a call had come in a few minutes back, to which the officers responded. It left him to make sure all civilians stayed behind the tape, as well as keeping an eye on any other distraction that could cause trouble.

With a nod of his head Nick finished the questioning, closing the pad before tucking it in his vest pocket. The man lingered for a few more minutes as the CSI crossed the sidewalk before heading off. He would be left to catching a taxi, his method of transportation.

"What did you get?" Brass queried the other man, hands in his pockets.

"Almost the same of what you got in your basic questioning," Nick shrugged his shoulders, glancing around the area. "Any news on our second guy?"

"Still out looking," the detective answered dryly. "We'll get him sooner or later."

"Our friend Charlie says that he's the one who took Greg down. Probably didn't even see him coming. I don't think he can complain too much though, between being knocked in the head and a being shot, he got out lucky."

Brass nodded in agreement, watching from the corner of his eyes as Sara climbed into the back. This didn't stop the Texan, who continued on without missing a beat. "Did you know they were dating?"

His answer was a questioning look as he turned back to Nick, who was grinning lightly now. "Surprised me too, when our guy said Greg hadn't stopped by in a while since started dating a brunette."

"Could be anyone," Brass mused. Obviously the Texan was far more excited about this discovery than he was. If they were dating, then they were dating, what difference did it make in his life? Sure, he would be happy for them, and he had to admit it was a bit surprising. He laughed shortly, shaking his head as he considered what Nick had told him. "There are a lot of brunettes out there."

"How many by the name of Sara that work with Greg?"

Brass laughed again, smiling this time. "That does narrow things down."

They stood there like that for a minute or so, before Nick announced he was going to catch up with Warrick. Brass only nodded, lost in his own thoughts as the wind continued to blow gently.

* * *

She wasn't sure what to expect, Grissom had been vague when relating the details. Part of her wondered if Grissom knew of their relationship, but shortly after assuming this she laughed it off. Certainly not, Greg needed a ride, and she had the night off. After all, he had asked, rather than instructed, but deep down she knew she couldn't say no.

It really couldn't be that bad, she reminded herself, even as she crawled in the back of the vehicle, otherwise she would be going to the hospital, not the crime scene. Guilt ate away at her, seeing his resting form. She had been so angry with him before, but try as she might she could no longer find it.

His eyes opened as she leaned over him, a look of confusion spreading over his face as he saw her. Sara kept quiet, but gave him a reassuring smile as she reached for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "Hey tough guy."

"Sara…?"

He made a move to sit up, but Sara was quick to stop him, pressing him down. Though her knowledge with head wounds was slight, given that she worked with the dead and not the living, she knew that sudden movements weren't the best of ideas. Instead she took a seat across from him, still holding his hand.

"How are you feeling?"

It was an attempt of conversation, Greg seemed a bit unaware, tired…and obviously in some sort of pain. It was all she could do to keep from wincing as she examined the wound. Greg's reply that he was tired was a weak one, and she couldn't help but smile as he let out a yawn.

"You ready to go home?"

Greg watched her closely, a passive look crossing his face. "I thought we weren't talking anymore," he muttered quietly, blinking as she stood.

The kiss was tender, as if she was afraid of hurting him, but its meaning was clear. She rested there a moment, nose to nose her eyes closed as she kissed him again, deeper this time. "Later…" she whispered in between another kiss. She was still sore with him, and that would take time to pass once she got over being worried. Her smile was warm this time as she pulled back, holding onto his own wrists as he worked his way into a sitting position.

Once there she let him rest, rubbing his shoulders up to his neck and back down again. Anything to help him loosen up, knowing that he was probably still shaken from the entire experience. Once that it was clear he would be able to walk Sara helped him to his feet, still holding onto one arm, just in case.

The ride home was quiet, Sara at first was unsure of where to take him. She finally decided on his place, seeing that it was much closer, plus the simple fact he would be more comfortable there. Greg too seemed to be thinking along the same lines, once turning down the street towards the apartment building he muttered he didn't have his keys.

"I do," she reminded him, jingling them for added effect. Greg laughed, a nervous sound filling the air. Sara felt much the same, worried as well as upset about the earlier events. It was so bizarre that she couldn't even figure out whom to blame it all on.

At first she had tried blaming it on herself, if she hadn't pressed so hard about having a night together she would have stayed behind to help Greg finish up. Then they would have gone somewhere together. Of course, if Greg had stood up to Ecklie, however stupid that may be, he would have gone straight over, instead of going to the store.

In the end it didn't matter, Greg was okay…would be okay, and she should be thankful for that much. Still, the gut wrenching feeling wouldn't leave, the guilt she carried weighing her down. Maybe it would be easier to apologize now…but to what effect? She hadn't been out of line earlier, had she? In any case, would Greg even accept her apology, or would he disregard it, thinking she was doing it out of pity?

Once inside Greg collapsed on his couch, too tired to try and make it to his bedroom. Sara half considered on moving him there, but quickly decided it would be easier to move a blanket than a body. By the time she returned he was asleep, and though it concerned her some she let it pass by. He had checked out okay, and with the little energy he had in the first place he would do nothing but sleep for a while.

Sara had nearly finished tucking the blanket in around him when he reached up with one hand, pulling her closer to him. As they kissed she found herself sinking on the cushions next to him, supporting her weight even as Greg held her close.

She pulled back, despite the soft whine from him, running a hand along his cheek. "I have to head on out," she told him, her hand stopping short of the bandage.

"You're not going to stay?" Greg wondered, the tone of his voice pained, and more than from his injury.

"I have to work," she voiced quickly, not wanting him to take it the wrong way.

He seemed confused, frowning as he blinked up at her, his eyes clouded. "It's your night off," he stuttered in between a yawn.

"It was," Sara corrected, laughing. "Then you had to go get yourself in trouble."

He wanted to protest, wanted to ask her to say, but knew at the same time that it would be asking far too much. Work always had the priority, something they had agreed on when they first started seeing each other…he couldn't really call it dating, could he? A close friendship…a very close friendship.

He glanced back up at her as Sara ran a hand through his hair, leaning down to kiss him one final time. "I'll come back, I promise."

"As soon as you get off?"

She smiled as she nodded, fingers tracing down to his lips, "I love you."

To this Greg could only smile, a feeling of warmth flooding his body. After all this time she had finally figured it out, had finally said what he had been waiting to hear. They both knew it, without having said anything, their own feelings and emotions driving them to become closer.

"I love you too…"

**TBC**


	7. Those Times Between Life

**An update on one that's been quiet for a while now. Longer one this time. Major thanks to Jenny for all her help on this, I honestly couldn't write half of my stuff if it wasn't for her. :D**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Seven: Those Times Between Life **

Greg let out a low whistle as he turned the page, his attention focused on the magazine before him. "She's hot."

Sara rolled her eyes, risking a glance up at him before she turned to her attention to the reports in her lap. "You know, we would be able to get this done so much faster if you were actually working."

"I am," came his blatant reply, in between another quiet mutter, his head coming closer to the page to examine it closely before turning it. "It's called research."

"It's called goofing off. I'd like to go home sometime tonight," she cleared her voice, lining up two separate photographs for comparison.

"Found it," Greg announced, folding the booklet over as he held up the magazine.

Sara only blinked as she studied the picture before her, the blonde on the page posing in a seductive manner, the golden fabric barely covering her. "And what do you want me to do with that?"

Greg's grinned widen as Sara shook her head quickly. "I'm not going to wear anything like that."

"Why not?" Greg wondered, resting the magazine on his knee. Sara was sitting directly across from him, the pair opting to sit on the floor instead of at a table. "I think it would look good on you…but that's besides the point. How much do you want to bet me that the golden fibers you pulled off the vic are a match to one of these?"

"It can be from almost anything," Sara was quick to deter him; her only focus was finishing up the paperwork before calling it quits for the night.

"Maybe," Greg nodded, "but our vic was a compulsive buyer from this company, we found books and catalogues and video tapes all over her house. This number here," he held up the magazine once again, "The Golden Robe, is a special buy. You have to purchase a certain amount from their stores and you get it shipped in your size for free. 5000 dollars worth, might I add. That's a lot to spend on clothes; not very many people would make that."

"You would be surprised," Sara commented quietly, taking the magazine from him. "Still, we have no proof that they do match, even if they did, what would it prove?"

"Well, we were unable to find anything else that was gold colored in the house, so maybe the killer had one, or they took this number with them."

"Sure," she nodded, knowing full well that even though it was possible, it still was a stretch. "Unless we have a sample, it's not going to do us any good. And I can tell you right now, the lab is not going to purchase $5000 worth of lingerie just to get one.

"I bet if you took that to Hodges he'd be able to come up with something," Greg suggested.

Sara blinked, glancing up at him. "You want me to show Hodges your pseudo-porn magazine…I mean your lingerie catalogue?"

Greg shrugged. "You have a problem with that?"

"It's a bit uncomfortable," Sara told him.

"It's business."

"Then you take it to him," she shot back, dropping the booklet back in his lap.

He was going to respond, having a perfectly good comment ready to shoot back, but was interrupted as Grissom leaned his head into the room. "We have a 419 out in the suburbs, one of you have to respond. The other needs to head home, the lab's racking up too much overtime. I'll be nice and let you two decide who goes," he waved the small slip of paper, one that Sara was quick to grab.

"Ohh, a bloated floater," came her remark as she sat down next to him. Greg reached for the paper but she pulled it away from him, as she continued reading. "Stuck in a sewer, none the less."

"That's going to be fun," Greg commented quietly, watching her.

Sara nodded, meeting his gaze. "Yeah…don't have too much."

"Wait a minute," he protested, "You're the lead, you should take the overtime."

"I am the lead, which is why you're going."

"Sara, that's not fair," Greg complained sullenly. "You have more experience working with these…types of cases."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to get out in the field right?" Sara asked, placing the papers neatly back in the folder.

He was grumbling as he followed her lead, dropping the open magazine on the table. "Fine, I'll go. That only means you have to take this to Hodges."

A grin had crossed his face as he snatched up the small piece of paper, heading out of the room before Sara could even respond. At that point she couldn't decide which was worse; working with a bloated floater, or taking this…second-rate porn to Hodges.

* * *

Greg vaguely remembered the work, though he could honestly say he had never seen anything quite as bad. As if the smell wasn't horrid enough the sight alone had made him queasy.

The db, whether it was male or female remained to be unseen, was lodged firmly between two sections of pipes, a new encounter not only for him, but for David as well. The coroner worked diligently, rattling off several terms one after the other, barely noticing Greg's pale complexion. He simply refused to go down any further, watching him work from above. Somehow the man was not only able to withstand the putrid smell, but seemed completely unfazed by it.

The murky brown water was near David's hips as he crouched, pawing gently over the body. "No visible ID on the body, we'll have to check clothes later."

"Yeah," Greg muttered, closing his eyes for a brief second. "Uh…how are we going to get him out of there?"

David had glanced up at him briefly before turning back to the body. "Well, he's not going to fit through that hole, moving him in this state of decomp's a bit risky. He's probably been in the water here for about two weeks. Any wrong moves and the skin can tear, and down here, we'd lose everything."

"Everything?"

David only nodded, "Bacteria breaks down organs, causing them to melt into a thick black substance. This fills the abdominal cavity which causes the body to swell. It eats through all of the muscles and organs until nothing's left."

"Tasty," Greg breathed, pulling away from the opening. He needed some fresh air, his eyes scanning the horizon. "There's some construction a few blocks south of here, they have the entire road torn open" he offered up, bending down over the hole once more. "Any chance we can float him up there?

"Logically yes, but it mostly depends on how well he holds up, we'll have to work quickly, but carefully. Is it your first case with a bloater?"

"Do pictures count?"

David smiled, a small grin. He seemed to be enjoying this. "Fetch the gurney from the back of the van, and then make your way down here carefully."

It only a few short minutes to complete the task, one Greg was trying to avoid. He was scowling the simple thought of Sara; nice, warm, and clean, sleeping in a pair of black shorts and the skimpy light blue tank top she always looked so cute in. More in likely she was sprawled on top of covers. Since the night was warm the day would be incredibly hot. That thought alone was enough to make him forget it was she that had sent him out here.

David helped him with the gurney as he grasped the top rung, careful of where he placed his feet. The smell was horrible, and was getting worse by the minute. The sludge was around his knees as he stepped off, making sure to give David and the body plenty of room. He watched as the other man worked the gurney under the bloated flesh as best as possible, make each movement slowly and carefully.

"Get around the other side there," David pointed with one free hand, the other resting on the gurney to keep it from slipping. "The body's slick enough we can probably work him free if we're careful."

"There's no other option?" Greg asked slowly, fingers clutching the edge of his jumpsuit.

"We could wait for a team to show up, cut the pipe away, cause the city more money to repair the line…."

"Okay," Greg cut him off, "I get it."

Still he was apprehensive as he moved alongside the enlarged torso, coughing as the smell lingered in his nostrils.

"Breath through your mouth."

A quick glance up and Greg nodded, taking a deep breath in. It wasn't as bad now, but still far worse than he expected. He took a moment to slip on a pair of gloves, before following David's instructions.

"Nice and easy."

He wasn't sure how long it took before they had body secured on the gurney; the excess weight was staggering as they began to walk down the tunnel. The few blocks seemed more like several miles as they worked between dispersing the weight evenly, and moving simultaneously. The simple fact that the murky water loaded with unknown bacteria wasn't helping the situation.

"Should be right around here," Greg muttered as they turned the last corner.

"I've already called help; they should be ready and waiting for us."

Greg nodded, more than grateful to hand off the responsibility off to someone else. Once they had the body out he would have to retrace his steps, back to the original crime scene to make sure nothing had been lost.

The opening was certainly large enough, the pair thankful for that simple fact. Their trek had been indeed worthwhile. With a single from David he began to slow down, his gaze catching several of the workers above. He recognized one as a dayshift corner, and another as an assistant.

"Well need to support the gurney until they can hook up a pulley system, then we'll have to stay underneath here to make sure nothing slips…"

"Under?" Greg interrupted him, "As in down here? Isn't that a little…dangerous?"

"Not as long as everything's done right," David chirped, seemingly unworried despite the entire situation. His gaze drifted upward to where the others were working, a frown crossing his face. He had a gut feeling that this was going to be a long night.

* * *

The warm water against his skin was more than a relief as Greg closed his eyes, his fingers running through his matted hair. Crusted pieces of flesh and feces clung to his follicles, a thought he could barely handle even when he wasn't thinking of it.

The showers at the crime lab were hardly used anymore, save for special instances as this. Greg had spent several hours down in the murky water, scoping for any possible evidence. Truthfully it wasn't as bad once they had gotten the body out, even if he had slipped off the ladder, landing face first the in sewage. Still, it wasn't much better.

He held his breath as he turned his face into the spray, just relaxing into the warmth for a short moment. The thought of Sara crossed his mind, surely the brunette had been sleeping this entire time, while he had been creeping and crawling around putrid tunnels. Strangely he wasn't upset with her, even as much as he wanted to be. She had, after all, been the one to send him out in that hell. Greg suddenly realized with strange satisfaction that he missed her.

Turning the faucet off, he held the towel up to his face, drying his eyes, resting the fabric against his face before wrapping it around torso. Luckily enough he had a fresh change of clothes in his locker, the jumpsuit hadn't proved to provide much help in keeping his other ones clean.

It wasn't any surprise that he was tired, he had worked a double, the only thanks was the fact he had the night off. Sara was expected in however, Greg wondering vaguely if he could stay awake for another ten hours, anything at all to at least visit with her for a short while.

The coffee in the break room was fresh, though plain, the simple cheap brand you would buy at a nearby store. Greg still had his stash hidden within the lab, unbeknown to anyone else. Of course he would take it out eventually, we he had a chance to actually stay there and guard it. For the moment he would have to settle for plain black coffee.

"Hey, I heard about your fiasco," Warrick chimed as he walked in. The man poured his own cup before seating himself across from Greg.

"Who hasn't" Greg muttered, taking a slow long sip. Word always seemed to travel the quickest around here. "What are you doing in at this hour?"

"Hot case, came in early to get it going. Have you even made it home yet?"

Greg shook his head wearily, placing the cup on the table. "Working on it, determined to make some time."

Warrick nodded, studying him for a moment. "So what did you do to piss her off?"

When Greg didn't respond he went on to explain. "Sara sending you out there. She'd normally jump at a chance for that, obviously you had to do something."

Greg frowned, his eyes narrowing. Ever since the rest of the team had learned that he was dating Sara, the others had been more than willing to pester him about it. He wondered vaguely if Sara ever had the same problem. His answer was another slow drink of coffee.

"Sorry I'm late," Nick announced his own presence, "I got caught in traffic. What'd I miss?"

"Not much," Warrick answered, leaning back in his chair. "We're just talking about this steaming hot relationship Greg and Sara are having."

He choked on his coffee, sitting up quickly as the hot liquid dribbled down his chin. "What?"

Nick was laughing, not even moving to take a seat. It mimicked Warrick who had a quiet chuckle and a large grin on his face. "Smelling like that though, you won't get much."

"He'd be lucky if he got anything," Nick pointed out, his face tensing as he pretended to gag.

It was enough to get Greg to roll his eyes. "It's nothing like that," he protested, "It's a good, solid relationship…"

"So how many times have you two gotten busy?"

"We're ending this conversation," he said quickly, barely blinking, "now."

"Must mean that it hasn't been good," Nick to mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm going home now," Greg stated blatantly, as he moved to stand up. He waited long enough to finish his cup, ignoring the other taunts from his co-workers before heading out the door.

* * *

When Sara woke up she found herself alone, something that wasn't expected, but then again Greg didn't actual live here. Why should she expect him to come every night? Forget that he had been staying there for the past three weeks, dropping by his place every now and then to gather new clothes, and some personal effects. She had been so used to seeing him that her bed now felt empty, save for the fact that it was only a double. For so long she enjoyed the extra space, but now…

Letting out a sigh she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. One hand rested under her head, the other on the bare skin of her stomach between her tank and the top of her shorts. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin, the covers resting on the floor after another warm morning.

Then again, maybe he was still at work, her eyes drifted to the clock. It wasn't possible, even if it had taken him that long to work the scene, surely Grissom would have sent someone in to relieve him.

Whatever the case was, she had little more than an hour before she had to leave for work. Enough time for a shower and quick bite to eat. With a groan she crawled out of her bed, stumbling across the thin grey carpet. She definitely wasn't a morning person, save for the fact it was already in the afternoons. These were still mornings for her, and she hated them.

Twenty minutes later she found herself leaving her room completely, only to stop as her eyes came to a rest on sleeping form that was sprawled across the couch. So he had come home after all. Still fully dressed Greg was clearly passed out to the world, snoring quietly, something she had become used to over the weeks.

The smell was strong, short of awful, but over these many years she had all but become used to it…or so she thought. Her hand stroked his hair, still wet from an earlier shower, her lips turning into a smile. She would have let him on the little lemon secret later on. For now she would let him sleep, a soft kiss on his lips, she was surprised when he returned the gesture, one hand caressing her cheek.

Heavy-lidded eyes met her own as she caught his hand, leaning against the couch. "Why didn't you come to bed?"

"Didn't want to wake you," Greg replied groggily, closing his eyes.

Sara smiled as she rested her hand on his forehead, kissing his hand. "You're warm," she said quietly, "you feeling okay?"

"Just tired," he muttered, his lips barely moving.

Sara nodded, watching him for a moment. Part of her was worried, wondering if she should have taken the case. Guilt was taking over, even though she had exercised her authority correctly, things shouldn't changed just because Greg was her boyfriend.

"Get some rest; I'm only a call away if you need anything."

There was a response on his part, barely audible but it was there. She would come back, and check in on him during break, more for herself than anything else. It was funny, in an odd sort of way. She had spent most of her life taking care of herself; it wasn't until she started working at the Las Vegas Crime lab that she began to really understand what it was like to have friends, people to care about, and others that cared about you. Greg was a completely different story, something she could have never prepared herself. Yet it was an inviting turn, a change that she was ready for.

**TBC**


	8. Ups and Downs

**Chapter Eight: Ups and Downs**

"How lucky do you feel?"

"Greg, enough already," Sara complained, "just go."

"Not until you tell me how lucky you feel."

"Fine," Sara huffed lightly, "I feel lucky."

"How lucky?"

How could she possibly be angry at him with that look he was giving her? One of which that was always her downfall, the wide cheeked grin, sparkling eyes…okay, maybe not sparkling, but that is how she saw them. The other was the all too famous puppy dog face. She ran a hand over her face, covering her eyes briefly as she rubbed her forehead, wondering what she had done to deserve this. "I feel very lucky, now roll the damn dice."

They scattered across the table and a grin split across her own face. "Doubles equaling four, that's what, twenty points for me?"

"Actually no," Greg shook his head, "Rolling a pair of two's will cost you ten points."

"Wait a minute," Sara stopped him, holding up her hands. "You rolled two two's last game, and you earned twenty points."

"That was because I rolled them after I rolled a seven. You rolled your two's after a five, therefore you lose ten points."

"You are crazy," Sara stated bluntly, "I'm fed up with this game."

"That's because you can't win," Greg chirped, his grin only widening.

"That's only because you keep on changing the rules."

"Of course, doesn't the phrase 'Greg's the winner' mean anything to you?"

"You know, I wonder if you just invented this game to pass the time," she commented dryly.

"Depends, is it working?"

She glanced at the clock with a frown before nodding, "Unfortunately…yes."

"Then yes, I did just make it up. You're only thirty points behind me, want to try another roll?" he offered, already shaking the dice in his cupped hands.

"We've nothing better to do."

And it was true, the crime lab that night was unusually slow, and without a current case Greg and Sara had already caught up on the paperwork, organized a selection of cold cases, and cleaned out an old pantry cupboard that was found in the back of the garage. Still, they had more than three hours left on the clock, and more than enough time on their hands.

"Three," Sara read of the total before glancing up at Greg. "How many points do I lose now?"

"Well, actually you rolled less than your previous turn, which isn't very easy to do, so you earned fifteen points," Greg rambled on, jotting down the new scores.

"Has it ever occurred to you that this doesn't make any sense at all?"

"One of these turns I'll figure out how to really play," Greg informed her, "Then I'll be selling this by the box, and I'll be rich and famous."

"What the hell are you on and where can I get some?"

Greg laughed, giving the dice another roll. Sara squinted as they came to a stop, smirking, "Look at that, a pair of twos. Who's winning now?"

"I don't suppose it's too late to change the ruling?" he wondered, but quickly dismissed the idea at her frown.

"I see the both of you are using your time wisely," Nick commented mildly as he entered the room. He gave them only a brief glance as he continued to the back of the break room, pouring himself the last of the coffee.

Greg made a face towards Sara, motioning over his shoulder to where Nick took his first drink. Whatever had been left in the pot was now cold, and grainy, the filter itself falling apart halfway through brewing that morning. It was the sole reason he had passed on a cup.

"That's…" Nick coughed, pushing the cup away, "interesting."

"It's been like that since the start of shift," Sara offered up, scooping up the dice in one hand.

"So…why hasn't anyone cleaned it out yet?"

"Good question," the dice scattered across the table, coming to a stop in front of Greg. "That's nine; I'm only three points away now."

"And what are you two doing?" Nick questioned, sitting down at the side of the table. He now had a cup of water in his hand and was taking sips gradually.

Greg looked up from where he finished recording the score, placing the pencil down to the side. "I like to call it 43, it's a race to see who can roll to 43 points first, but of course there's downfalls as well."

"In other words, he doesn't know," Sara offered up, giving the two men a smug smile.

Greg stuck his tongue out at her, prompting Nick to roll his eyes at the immature pair. "You know Nicky; I'll bet you that you can't roll up to twenty points within three turns." He offered up the dice, letting them fall to the table.

"What's the catch?"

Greg thought for a moment, his gaze shifting from Nick to Sara, then back to Nick. "Dinner's on you if I win, Dinner's on me if I loose. Sara of course gets a free meal anyways, for being a good loser."

"FYI Greg, I'm currently winning," Sara pointed out, "but I'll take you up on a free dinner anytime."

Nick shook his head, smiling. "That's okay; I wouldn't want to come between you two love birds."

Sara groaned, her head coming to rest on the table. It was old news now, about her and Greg, and even though neither had openly denied it, the teasing was starting to get a little old.

"We're not that different," Sara voiced, "I don't know why everyone's treating us as if we are."

"Come on Nick," Greg was shaking the dice in his hands, "what do you have to lose?"

With a sigh Nick held out his hand, where Greg deposited the dice with a smile. "Twenty points?"

Greg nodded, even as Nick rolled for the first time. "Eleven points," he smirked, "Not too bad for my first roll."

"Not bad at all," Greg agreed, "but you still have nine points to go."

"And that would be what, five points a roll at least?" Nick wondered, grabbing the dice up once again. "No problem."

"Only three," Greg mused, watching dice come to a stop. "Not as easy as you think."

"Still have one more roll left," Nick reminded him, reaching for the dice.

Sara rolled her eyes, even as the dice scattered across the table. Greg was already chuckling, his hands rubbing together. "We're dinning good tonight."

"I'm only short one point," Nick grumbled, leaning back in his chair. "If I have to pay then I get to pick the restaurant."

"Hopefully you're not making too many plans," Grissom cut in, glancing from one to the other. "Don't tell me you've been in here the entire shift."

"First break," Nick chimed in quickly. "Then I meeting up with Catherine as soon as Brass brings our suspect in."

"We've just been waiting for a reassignment," Sara offered, sitting up in her chair. From the corner of her eye she could see Greg move his hand over the dice, trying in vain to hide them.

"I won't ask," Grissom glanced at him, before turning back to Sara. "High priority case, victim is the daughter of a possible mayor to be."

"You're giving us a new assignment a few hours before we're off shift?" Greg complained. "That's really not fair."

"Don't blame me, blame the killer," Grissom reminded him, "Just think of it as making up for the time wasted in here."

"Sure," Greg muttered quietly, moving to his feet. He stopped over Sara's shoulder, reading the slip of paper. "We're working a double, aren't we?"

"At least," she replied. Even so she had a good feeling it would stretch into a triple.

* * *

Pinching the bridge of her nose Sara stepped out into the hallway, letting out a defeated sigh. She barely had a chance to see Greg ahead of her as he disappeared around the corner. Moving into a slight jog it wasn't that hard to catch up with him.

"Hey," he nodded in greeting, turning towards her as she slowed her pace to match his. "I just came from tox to see if they have any preliminary results, nothing yet."

"I don't have anything," Sara nodded towards him. "Trace is backed up and no one is in the print lab. Hodges should be running our file next, so we'll miss the backlog."

"I got a page from Al about five minutes ago," Greg continued, "he says that he's found something, I figured that you would want to be there as well."

"Dead bodies?" Sara wondered, "of course."

"You're so morbid," Greg teased her, holding open the door as she walked through. He could hear her snickering a little as she turned to look over her shoulder.

"Figures, look who I hang around all day."

"Hey," Greg shook his head, "You were morbid even before you started hanging around me."

"How do you know that I'm talking about you?"

"Unfair call," Greg demanded, slowing down as they neared the entrance.

Sara gave him a reassuring smile, one hand on the door. "Come on, it's not going to be all that bad."

"I know," Greg nodded, "I just don't really care for this part of the job…it makes me feel…."

"Spooked?" Sara suggested. "I know, I felt the same way when I first started. You'll get used to it."

With another nod he followed her, grateful that Sara, for once, was taking the lead. In another way it was hard, mostly because he felt so out of place. Field work wasn't all that new for him, but seeing the bodies was sometimes hard to face. He didn't feel nauseous, no…just creepy.

"You paged?" Sara wondered, coming to a stop beside the metal table.

Al Robbins nodded, already motioning to the corpse. "COD?"

"The stab wounds," Greg replied mildly, having to photograph the deep gashes himself back at the scene. Although there had been a lack of blood, even David had confirmed it was more in likely the cause of death.

"That's what I thought at first, but with lack of internal bleeding I wasn't too certain. That's when I noticed the gouge in the back of her head."

"Blunt force trauma," Sara stated, glancing from Greg and then back to Robbins.

"Precisely," he nodded, "the stab wounds were acquired post-mortem, she was hit with a sharp downward blow from the left. I collected some wood fragments in the wound tract, already sent them to Hodges. You're looking for a round based object, most likely smooth on the exterior."

"We found a baseball bat at the scene," Greg offered up. "It had slight damage, but no blood."

"It could have been cleaned," Sara reminded him. "We didn't find any prints either."

The sound of his pager caused him to jump, which earned a chuckle from Sara even as hers went off a moment later. Scowling he checked the device, glancing back up to her. "It's Grissom…"

"Probably wanting to see if we're actually working," she chimed, saying a short goodbye to Al as they left.

"We've been working," Greg complained, "maybe he'll give us a pat on the back and tell us to go home."

"And what are the chances of that?" Sara mused.

"Probably about the same as Mia having our DNA results back."

"I thought you had already ran those," Sara stated, coming to a stop.

"Mia wasn't there," Greg held his hands out to the side as he turned around to face her. "So I just dropped them off."

"I asked you specifically to run them Greg."

"No, you said to have them ran. And they will be, as soon as Mia finishes them. You have to give the poor girl a break; she's backlogged until forever it seems like."

"Which is why you should have ran them, you're capable."

"DNA is not my job Sara," he defended himself, "not anymore. Or have you forgotten that?"

"This is a high priority case," Sara reminded him, "You know how to do this job, probably better than she does, sometimes you have to go the extra mile to get stuff done."

"Mia is perfectly capable," Greg shot back, growing angry now. "If you were so concerned about it getting done, then why didn't you do it?"

"I'm not qualified to do DNA Greg, you are!"

"Forget it," he snapped, shaking his head, "If you have a problem with me, then talk to Grissom. Or better yet, why not go to Ecklie?"

"I'll make sure to do that," she replied coldly, watching him as he pushed roughly past the swinging doors.

**TBC**


	9. Cooling Down

**Sorry for taking so long to update. Not a long chapter but I do promise a longer one for the next update (which will happen sooner rather than later, I promise!)**

**Let me know if you are still here with me!**

**No beta, again, for the chapter. All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Cooling down**

There was a stretch of silence, so eerie, so overbearing, that it felt like even the smallest of sounds would shatter it fiercely. Sara watched him with irate gaze, not moving or looking away from where he sat. Her arms were folded across her chest as she stood there, shaking her head slowly.

"That's not fair."

Grissom shook his head, hardly bothered by her goading attitude. It was something he had learned to tolerate over the years. Sara was a strong worker, and he valued that over any minor personality flaws. Slowly he closed the book that he had been going through, watching her.

"Sara…DNA is not Greg's job anymore; there isn't anything I can do about it."

"I gave him an order," she reminded him firmly, fuming again. "His job, not his job, that's not the point. I am his supervisor, whether he likes it or not. He can't just go around and disregard orders because he feels like it."

"And if you told him he had to jump off a bridge, would you expect it of him?"

She frowned, watching him. "What in the world does that have to do with anything that we are talking about?"

"Would you expect him to jump just because you asked him?"

He pressed the question again, wanting for her to actually think about it. Of course she shook her head, he knew that she would, but she had failed to see the general point.

"Sara, just because you tell him to do something does not mean he automatically has to."

"I'm his supervisor," Sara pointed out.

"And I'm both of yours," Grissom responded. "What difference does it make?"

"He knows how to work DNA."

"And you know how to mop a floor," he paused, glancing back up at her. "I don't see you dragging the mop bucket out the janitor's closet though."

"Two different scenarios," Sara shook her head, frustrated. "All I asked was for him to run the samples. Mia was backlogged, he knew this. He also knew we were waiting on those results. He should have been more prepared."

"This is between you and Greg," Grissom reminded her quietly. "This does not involve the lab, so do no involve it. If you cannot sort your differences out, then one of you will have to go to dayshift."

"That's not fair…"

"That was the arrangement, Sara. You agreed to it, remember?"

"Grissom, we are talking about two different extremes. Greg knew that I would be his supervisor He shouldn't question instructions I give him."

"Work it out…or change shifts," he told her quietly. He had been wary of their growing status for a time now, waiting and wondering when everything would fall apart. Dating within the work place was never the best of ideas. But he was also confident that they could sort things on their own. Both Sara and Greg were logical thinkers; surely they would figure something out.

She didn't respond, only let out a huff as she left the office, leaving the tense supervisor to himself. Grissom shook his head, sighing. Scratch that, Greg was a logical thinker…Sara could be, but only when she wanted to.

* * *

He had done this so many times he no longer need to watch. Greg's hands moved in a series of motions, almost like a dance as he switched between running samples, and taking notes. It had taken some time before he was able to start for real, the place being a mess with the amount of work. He pitied Mia, he really did, but that didn't mean he wanted to take her place.

He let out a sullen sigh, clearing more papers to the side in a neat stack as he flipped through the next case file. Greg had started the samples from his case first off, glad to have the authority to run what he wanted in the order he wanted to. This, at least, would appease Sara, if only a little.

The criticism still stuck, Greg angered by the words she had spoken. He had moved to the field for a reason, to get away from here, but it seemed like endless chain of tug-o-war, with him being the rope. Ecklie had already made him work in here without pay, and now he was spending more of his own time finishing up the work that other people so desperately wanted done. What was it called? Taking one for the team.

More like taking ten…

"You didn't have to do this, you know."

Greg glanced up as she walked in, shrugging his shoulders as he put forth a fake smile. "You needed the help. I would have done anything to have someone come help me after the lab explosion."

Mia grimaced as she sat down opposite of him, pulling on a pair of gloves. "You mean to tell me no one offered to help after you got out of the hospital?"

"Well, they offered," Greg chuckled, "Nick spilled coffee over the samples, Warrick lost a case file, and Catherine…well, she was actually helpful, she got me lunch."

Mia laughed, shaking her head. "Duly noted for future reference. I will not ask anyone for help."

"I didn't ask for their help," Greg replied, concentrating on the sample he had now. "I think they were trying to surprise me."

"Well I like your surprises a lot better."

He laughed, glancing up at her briefly. It made him feel guilty; for he knew the only reason he was here was because he was sulking. He hadn't wanted to help her, hadn't wanted to be stuck…stuck in this go-forsaken lab, not again.

"You okay?"

He nodded, going back to work. With any luck he would be able to head home to catch some sleep before his next shift started, but somehow he didn't feel like that would happen. Part of him didn't want it to happen. Going home would mean facing Sara; and if she wasn't there he would still have to face the memory of her. It was hard to escape when they were living together.

It was a mixture of feelings twisting inside of him at the moment. He was angry, hurt…and part of him felt guilty for acting in such a way. Sometime he felt as though he should stand up to Sara more when she called him out on such minor things. She was still his supervisor, and Greg was beginning to wonder if this whole relationship business was a good thing.

With a sigh he nodded, telling himself it was. They just needed time to work the kinks out; this was all this was, a bump in the road.

* * *

She hadn't been happy about Grissom's response. More than once the man had not supported her in a decision, but she Sara had been certain he would in this case. After all, Grissom had Greg work in DNA many times after he had moved out the field. He instructed Greg to do so without so much as a second thought and Greg would listen. What authority did Grissom have that she did not?

Sara wasn't sure what she was more upset about. The fact that Grissom left her hanging, or the fact that Greg didn't respect her leadership. They had shared a fairly evened relationship so far. Neither wanting to dictate what the other did. But that was different, as different as private and public could get. In her mind, Greg was wrong.

Or so she thought. Coming home to an empty house had been welcoming. At first. Then after she spent her time unwinding she began to think things over. Grissom's words ran through her mind, so did Greg's. They ran into one another, intermixing like fruits in a blender until she was no longer certain who had said what. Was she as right as she had wanted to believe?

She let out a sigh, pressing her hands to her forehead as she collapsed on the couch. They would have to talk things over, she knew. Once he came home. The thought caused her to glance at the clock, slight worrying edging through her. Greg should be home by now.

They had no call to work late, and Sara certainly hadn't assigned him more. Greg of course had sauntered off after their quarrel, and she had not chased him down. It was possible he got caught up looking for a lead, or maybe he had taken off with one of the guys to calm down.

Idly she reached for her phone, flipping it open. He was on speed dial, and she listened to the ring sound one after another, echoing in her ear. The fifth ring came and went, the voicemail clicking on, his speech a mixture of smug remarks and comments that sounded like it had come from a drunken man. Sara laughed, closing the phone as she shook her head. She would have to get him to change it, not even wanting to think what Grissom or Ecklie would have to say if they ever happened to hear it.

Sadly she smiled, tucking the phone up under her chin as she closed her eyes. She wanted it near in case he called back, knowing that the man was good on returning his calls. More in likely the earlier argument was forgotten, and Sara convinced herself that as long as he didn't bring it up, than neither would she. She had learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better to leave the past, in the past.

**TBC**


	10. Figuring It All Out

**Thanks to thoes that reviewed! I am going to try and keep up with this story, thanks for your patience!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Figuring It All Out**

He hadn't come home. Part of her was worried; another part of her told her she was overreacting. Worse, she had overslept. Sara hastily changed her clothes, running a brush through her hair before heading out the door. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been late to work. Grissom would either kill her, or simple be amused. She hoped it was the latter…

But arriving at work, no one seemed to have missed her. Indeed the halls were quiet, the rooms occupied with lab rats working silently, barely glancing her way as he moved by. Maybe everyone was already out on cases. Perhaps they hadn't waited for her…maybe they didn't even notice…

She came to a stop, frowning as the noise barely reached her ears. She knew that laugh, had heard it before. Quickly she moved down the hall, slowing as she approached the break room. The three of them were sitting about the table, Greg on one side, Nick and Warrick on the other, the three trading a light conversation, Greg laughing again as he shook his head.

"That's not true."

"I was so there," Nick argued, "I saw everything."

"I did not, do, anything," Greg repeated, his face turning a bright crimson.

"You know there is a lab policy stating clearly about public displays of affections, especially with other workers."

"Whoa," Warrick held up a hand, cutting the two men off. "Whatever Greg and Mia were doing is not our business."

"Thank you," Greg nodded towards him.

"Even if it was kinky."

_Kinky?_ Sara frowned, watching from the hallway. What exactly had he been doing? She was curious, but a part of her said she may not want to find out for sure.

"It was not kinky," Greg argued, "It was a perfectly, legal, and work related experiment."

"You were painting each other in liquid latex," Nick clarified. "How is that work related?"

"You were doing what?" Sara burst out, coming into the room. She had heard more than enough, here she and Greg were dating, and now he was…

"Busted," Nick quipped under his voice.

"She was painting me," Greg clarified, "and yes, it was work related. Grissom gave us approval. It was actually his idea in the first place."

"Now this is getting really kinky," Warrick frowned, shaking his head. "You and Mia I can see, but you throw Griss in the mixture, it's not a pretty picture."

"He only watched."

"I'm leaving," Sara said quietly, turning back around. She knew she shouldn't have stayed.

"Sara, wait!"

She didn't stop, but she did slow so that he could catch up with her, "I don't want to hear it," she warned him.

"Trust me," Greg responded, "one of the samples was contaminated; we believed it was from liquid latex, but we couldn't prove it, so Grissom told us to find out for sure."

"So you strip down in the DNA lab and let Mia paint you with liquid latex?"

"She painted my arm," he grinned at her, "Why, did you want to try?"

"Get real," she shot back at him quickly, turning away as she tried to hide her grin. "I'm not that crazy."

"Well not yet," he agreed quietly, following her into the locker room. "But we are dating, and you know what they say about that."

Sara opened her locker, glancing at him. "Enlighten me."

"Well, couples reflect off of one another. That means before long you'll be dancing around wearing headdresses and painting yourself with latex."

"And you'll be running around and ordering people to do something that isn't there job," she returned quietly.

Greg's expression dimmed, and he nodded, watching her. "And you'll start to ignore requests because you feel that you're above the job to do it."

There was a moment of silence, and Sara forced out the apology, her own words intermingling with his and she smiled, laughing quietly. "I guess we both have a lot to learn."

"I knew the samples were important, and I should have run them, especially since I had the time. I was just so tired of DNA…I didn't want to be stuck in there again."

"I shouldn't have expected you to do them. That was your job, but it's not anymore. I'll try to keep that in mind."

"And I'll try to prioritize more," he answered. "Especially since I don't want to go to day shift."

"Oh, Grissom talked to you to?"

"Something like that," he grinned. "So what, do we kiss and make up then?"

Sara laughed, closing her locker as she turned to him. "You know what they said about work."

He let out a sigh, but nodded. "Professional."

"Then let's keep it professional," she returned, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her lips against his.

Greg returned this kiss, pulling as her beeper went off. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"You're the one to talk, latex boy" she reminded him, glancing at the device.

"Mmm…but I'm not on the clock."

"Neither am I."

"Stalemate then," he nodded, "I like it."

"But I do have to go," she added, after a short pause. "You?"

"I'm headed home actually."

She glanced up at him, still in his hold and watched him with a frown. "Home? But shift is just starting…"

"I'm over my hours Sara; Grissom's not letting me stay any longer. I'm being forced to take vacation time."

"I'll see you when I get home then?" She asked the question hopefully. Greg lived with her now, but he still had his apartment till the end of the month. But she smiled as Greg nodded, feeling slightly relieved. It was the first bump in the road for them, and she hadn't wanted their relationship to be thrown off the tracks.

She stole one last kiss, before leaving him behind in the room, knowing that she was not going to get a warm welcome from Grissom. But the extra minutes spent had been worth it, and the night would go much easier now, with her own personal problems sorted.

* * *

If it was one thing he hated more than anything it was the ticking of a clock. He could never explain why, but the soft repetitive sound reverberated through his ears, drawing his attention, and forcing him to focus on nothing else. He couldn't think, couldn't sleep…couldn't do anything. Greg had put up with it thus far, but sooner or later, they would need to talk about it.

He could have taken the blasted thing down, pulled out the batteries. Sara would yell at him later for it, he knew. The last thing he wanted was an excuse to have another fight. So he found himself on the couch, wrapped in a light blanket, head resting on the pillow. It wasn't really cold, just a faint chill, but the blanket he had drove it away easily enough. And the couch was comfortable, save for the slipcover that was on it. Another thing they would have to talk about later. Who cared if the couch was horridly ugly? It wasn't like they had company over.

Sara would claim that it would do better to stay on; they had the bed to sleep in. Greg of course knew that there would be times the either of them would have to sleep out on the couch because of their schedule, or court even. Sara was a light sleeper, and Greg wouldn't want to wake her when she had to present herself in front of judge.

Then there was the issue of all the things they were to keep. Sara had decided on her bed; Greg had agreed. Not only was it larger, but it was more comfortable. They had used his couch, and her chair, as well as the coffee table. In truth they both had contributions givens, but it still left little room for the rest of their things. The house Sara had gotten hadn't been that large; a single bedroom, two bathrooms. There was, however, more than enough room for the two of them to be content.

Keeping everything in storage wasn't exactly cheap…and if they sold their excess, all the more money to them. Yet Greg wasn't sure if he was ready to part with all of his stuff. He knew Sara wanted to keep her own things; he also knew that Sara would manipulate him into agreeing. The thought made him smile; he already knew that he would have given in anyway, but he would never tell Sara that. It was cute, watching her play her puppy face, hearing her talk in her soft and pouty voice.

Letting out a yawn he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He did love her…he was sure of that. So why did he feel so… uncertain? He could take the teasing at work, but he didn't enjoy it. No one took it seriously enough, save for Grissom and Ecklie and that was only because of the reminders it could get them fired. So far strings had been pulled to allow them to continue working together, but there hadn't been a promise that it would stay that way forever.

And if they couldn't work together…and they never saw each other off shift…then what was the point of having a relationship? There wouldn't be a relationship to have. The thought worried him; but it wasn't just that, he knew. It had been in the back of his mind, constantly nagging at him, but he had chosen to ignore it.

Until the night before. Then it had blown to the front full force, clear as day. Sara was his superior. It wasn't necessarily the authority he couldn't handle, but rather the authority that she held over him. She could pull him from a case, send him to the lab, make him do the dirty work. She already had…

Greg had thought, when they first started, that Sara would have been…kinder to him. That she would have brought him on the higher, more pressing cases. But that had fallen short only a few weeks after everything had started. A high profile case came along, and he ended up stuck with Warrick, working a simple robbery case. When he had confronted her Sara had simply replied it was because he was a level one.

That was it…a level one. Catherine had taken him on a high profile case even before he was certified as a level one. Nick had taken him out on cases when he was still in the lab, even before had basic field experience. Yet now…after all the work he had done, after all the trust he had gained from the others…it still hadn't been enough for Sara.

Greg wondered dimly if it ever would be. Sara had been his closest mentor through his training, and she would still see him as the feisty lab rat who wanted to get out in the field. She would never see him for the CSI he was. Part of that thought hurt him, but in the back of his mind he chided himself. He was making too big of a deal out of everything…wasn't he?

The thoughts were lost in his mind as he gave into his tired body. He slept hard, knew he had because he couldn't remember sleeping. Slowly he blinked his eyes, not exactly sure what had woken him. That was when he felt it again. The hand brush across his forehead, the lips against his. Greg returned the kiss without thought, laughing a moment later.

"What?"

He fixed a worn gaze on her, chuckling still. "It's a good thing you're not some crazed homophile breaking into homes otherwise I'd be in serious trouble."

Sara laughed, watching him. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I had no idea it was you until now."

"You knew it was me," she chided.

"I assumed it was you," Greg nodded, sitting up as he rubbed his eyes. "But I didn't know. I didn't even hear you come in."

"You were tired."

"I still am tired…you look like crap."

"I love you too," Sara returned, moving to her feet. "Shift held over, Griss and I were caught in a downpour. We lost most of the evidence."

"How bad is it?"

"I don't think there is any good," she told him simply. "To be honest, I think we had more evidence after the explosion in DNA."

She gave him a pitying smile then, apologizing. "I forget you don't like to talk about that."

Greg nodded, pushing the unwanted memories away. That had not been a pleasant time. "Bet Ecklie's happy about that. Nothing you can do to save the case?"

"I don't know," she shook her head as she moved into the bedroom. "I won't know either, I've been suspended until Friday."

Greg frowned, watching as she changed from her clothes into her sleepwear. Sara never wore real pajamas, just whatever she could find, and whatever was comfortable enough. "Why? What happened?"

"Well, Ecklie was convinced that if I showed up on time…we would have been finished collecting evidence before the downpour started. Grissom got all the photos done, and the preliminary search, but he hadn't bagged anything."

"And what did you say to him?"

"That he was a raving lunatic that needed a reality check."

Greg huffed, watching her. "You didn't?"

She smiled him as she came back out. "How do you think I got suspended?"

"He could have fired you," Greg pointed out, slightly amused by her response.

"He could have, but he wouldn't."

"You're lucky."

"That's what Grissom said."

He scooted over as Sara sat down next to him, folding her legs under her. "You don't have to say it, I know…I have a big mouth."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replied.

"But you were thinking it."

"I always think it," he teased, wrapping an arm around her. He felt her laugh against his chest, forcing a smile of his own to appear. "So…what will you do for the next three days?"

She shrugged in his hold. "Not sure…unpack I guess."

"I thought we'd do that together…you're going to throw all my stuff out."

"No I won't," she argued, "only some of your stuff. The rest I'm keeping to sell on e-bay."

"You are evil," Greg told her, running his hands along her arms. "But I'm serious."

"I promise I won't throw anything away," she cut him off, looking up at him. "I'll go through my stuff only."

"You promise?"

"I already have, haven't I?"

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded, smiling at her. "While you're at it, you can get rid of that clock."

"I like that clock…Grissom gave it to me as a welcoming present when I first came to Vegas."

"It's creepy."

"It is not creepy," she defended.

"It has bugs on it."

"He got it at an entomology conference, what did you expect?"

"How about a normal digital clock that doesn't tick? We can buy some of those fuzzy bug stickers and stick them on. You won't even notice the difference."

"Greg," she laughed, pulling away from his hold. "The clock stays."

"Then move it out of the bedroom at least," he pleaded. "Its creepy enough to sit there and listen to it all night, but the fact that it has bugs on it watching us sleep just makes it all worse."

"You've been watching way too many horror flicks," she told him.

"Sara…"

She let out a sigh, her eyes moving to the ceiling as she shook her head. "Fine…I'll take it out of the bedroom. But I'm not throwing it away."

"Thank you…now that that is settled; can we go to bed?"

"Bed yes," Sara nodded, turning towards him with a sly grin. "Sleep…that's negotiable. I had a better idea."

**TBC**


	11. Moving Up

**Thanks for Kegel for the beta! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Moving Up**

"It doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense. We don't question the evidence, we just run with it."

"But why would he do it, Sara? There's no logical explanation."

She let out a sigh, watching him as they moved down the hall. "The 'why' is irrelevant, Greg. We don't ask why; we ask how."

"Okay," he came to a stop, turning to face her as they entered the break room. "_How _would he know how to do it, if he had no reason _why_ he was doing it?"

"You don't think he killed her?"

Greg shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. Damn that look…it was a mixture of certainty and doubt; as though he knew he was right, but wanted her assurance on it as well.

"No," he answered quietly.

"Greg…he knew our vic; they went to the same gym, the same public library. We have his prints on her cell phone, and a knife from his car coated in her blood. Plus he doesn't have an alibi for the time of her death. How much more do you want?"

"Both our vic and our suspect were obsessed about their physique, Tormen's Athletic Club is one of most prestigious gyms in Vegas, so the fact they both went there is no surprise. They were both relatively the same age, and going through college. The public library they went to was within walking distance of where the both of them lived, and it provided external sources they would need for studying," Greg explained.

"How do you explain his prints on her phone then?"

"Maybe she dropped it," Greg offered, "At the club, or at the library. He found it, went to give it back."

"Which would put him in contact with the victim right before she died. And what about the knife in the back of his car?"

"He filed a report about his vehicle being broken into the night after she was killed, but he stated that nothing was taken. Maybe instead of them taking something, the killer was planting the knife instead."

"In some random car that happens to belong to a guy that had recent contact with the victim?"

He rubbed his forehead with a groan. "He had no reason to do it, Sara. He didn't even know the girl. Why would he waste everything he's worked for by killing someone he had no relation to?"

"That's what he says," Sara clarified, flipping through the case file in her hands. "It's his word against hers; she really can't do much talking now."

"Her parents haven't heard of him."

"Maybe she didn't tell her parents," she pointed out. "Have you told your parents about us?"

"Of course not," Greg shook his head, "but we're adults."

"So was Emily Cranford."

"Sara," Greg let out a sigh, "Two different situations. Emily talked with her parents often. She would have mentioned something."

"Not necessarily."

"He didn't do it. You know he didn't; otherwise you wouldn't be standing here arguing with me. You would already have him in interrogation."

Sara let out a sigh, nodding. It was true. "I want to believe that he didn't," she stated quietly. "I want to believe because part of me doesn't want to believe that humans are capable of such actions. But I've learned over the years that what we want to believe, and what we need to believe, are two different things."

"It's not right," Greg told her stubbornly.

"Greg…the evidence…"

"Forget the physical evidence," he cut her off. "Human nature is part of the investigation, too. Emotional evidence; he had no reason…"

"I know that," Sara cut him exasperated. She always took the emotional aspect into consideration. A trait that Grissom was never too fond of. "But I also know that if we don't run with what we got, we're going to lose this case."

"Sara…"

She shook her head, giving him a small smile. "He's our only lead right now, Greg. He has to know something; if he is innocent, then he'll be able to answer our questions without hesitation. He'll clear himself as a suspect."

"Ruin his name, his record?" Greg wondered. "Over something you know can't be in the first place?"

"I don't make the rules, Greg."

"Two hours."

"What?" she frowned, watching him.

"Give me two hours before you call Brass; that's all I'm asking for."

"Why?"

He gave her a smile, "The 'why' isn't relevant, remember?" He reached out stroking her cheek as he passed by her, hurrying down the hall.

Sara watched him go with mild amusement. He had always been hesitant to run with leads, not feeling confident to take charge unless encouraged, so the change in itself was a nice one to see. But it left her feeling slightly indecisive. While it was encouraging, it was also disconcerting. She contemplated the thought, a smile tugging at her lips as Grissom came into the room, watching her skeptically.

"Something amusing?"

"I think Greg just took over my case."

"Why?"

Sara shook her head, "He said the why was irrelevant."

He only watched for a moment, then nodded, "Sounds good to me."

He said nothing else, leaving the room much in the same fashion as he had entered. Sara watched him go, shaking her head after a moment before sitting down at the table. It was her third day back after the suspension, and already she had received reprimands from both Ecklie and Grissom. That and she had been forced to give the pair an apology.

She didn't mind so much apologizing to Grissom. After all, her absence had only added extra work for the man. But Ecklie? Sara felt as though everything she had done had been justified. But she wanted to keep her job as well; and keep working with Greg. It was difficult, she admitted, taking a step back, and allowing Greg to do more of the work, trusting him a little more. She was meticulous with her work; she liked things done her way. Greg had a whole other sense of order and priority. But she could learn…she would have to.

Two hours; he had told her. Her eyes flicked to the clock, watching the seconds tick by. It had only been ten minutes at the most, and Sara knew she would have to find something to do or otherwise risk going mad due to waiting. Absentmindedly her fingers tapped on the case file, and she let out a slight groan as the thought came to her mind. She hated paperwork…but at the very least it would keep her busy.

* * *

He had taken a chance; purely on a hunch. Greg knew what the others would say, mostly Ecklie. They didn't follow hunches, they followed leads. But Sara had taught him once that sometimes you had to trust your own instinct. He knew she believed what he did as well; their one suspect, Mathew Brent, was innocent. She had been watching her words carefully though since her return. She was still walking a fine line with Ecklie.

So Greg had done what he felt best. He had gone with the hunch. If anyone got in trouble because of it, then it would be him. Ecklie wouldn't be able to pin it on Sara, though he was sure the man would try.

Returning to the layout room Greg pulled all the evidence they had, sorting through the results, the finds, and the evidence once more. It had to be something simple, had to be one small thing that was missing, the same small thing that was throwing everything off.

The task was daunting to say at least. The homicide had been brutal; Emily Cranford's throat had been slashed, her chest impaled with the same blade several times as she lie bleeding to death. It had been a crime of passion, a crime of hate. Not a simple mischance; there was no logical way Mathew Brent was responsible. Now he just had to prove it.

His fingers ran over the blood-stained clothes, the crimson patches fading to a rustic stain by now. Their suspect's clothes were clean…free of blood. But that had been the following day, and Mr. Brent had given them over willingly once hearing the cause. Another reason Greg felt he we innocent. Most guilty parties would turn away at the questions, but he had been forthcoming. He lived alone, worked nights, and had claimed to be home the morning it happened, but no one was able to vouch for him.

Greg used to live alone…and he worked nights as well. He hadn't really known any of his neighbors; he had barely seen them. They would have responded the same way Mr. Brent's neighbor's had; that he was a ghost. Greg shook his head, moving to the photos next.

Grissom would say that he was spending too much time with Sara. The compassion he was developing between victim and suspect wasn't healthy. Greg could feel it; the complexity of it all was starting to weigh him down. But as burdensome as it was, it was also intoxicating, knowing that you could make a difference in something so significant with the smallest of decisions.

He came to a pause, the thought leaving his mind as he glanced over the photo. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Quickly he reached over and retrieved the notes lying to the side, reading them over before he glanced at the photo once more. Slowly a smile spread over his face and he glanced up at the clock, a moment of worry fleeting through him. But it passed quickly; he still had time.

* * *

She heard him call, slowing down as he jogged through the hall to catch up. He had changed clothes, switching from his dark black punk t-shirt into a more subtle long-sleeved one. She liked him in both, but a mild bout of amusement crossed her mind as she wondered how he got away with it. Grissom was lax in supervisorial authority, but he would never have allowed her to wear such material. But it was a petty matter, and she let it go as he fell in step with her.

"Please tell me you haven't called Brass yet."

She glanced at him, then turned away. "You said two hours; it's been two hours and fifteen minutes."

"Sara…" his voice was nearly a whine, but she laughed, grinning at him.

"Give me some credit, will you? I saw you in AV lab with Archie; I figured you were onto something. Now give."

He spurt a quiet thanks, handing her the file in his hand. "You remember that second print we found on the vic's phone?"

"We ruled that out," Sara reminded him. "Brian worked for the cell phone provider, and she brought the phone in the day before she died to have it looked at. He admitted to touching the phone."

"Yes, but look at the print. I missed it, too, the prints barely overlap. I didn't think much of it at the time."

She nodded, humoring him as her gaze fell over the picture that had been enhanced. But the mild humor faded into interest as she studied it closer. "Is that…"

"Brian's print…is on top of Mathew's," Greg nodded to her. "That's not possible, unless he touched the phone after Mathew."

"So…it proves that Mathew Brent wasn't the last person to see Emily alive. But it doesn't prove that he didn't kill her. They could have been in on together."

"I figured you'd say that," Greg cut in, "so I did a little bit of research. Mathew and Emily had the same phones; same provider."

"Coincidence," Sara shook her head.

"Brian Puller sold them both of their phones, five months ago. About a week apart."

"It's his job, Greg."

"Brian then joined Tormen's Athletic Club two days after the last sale. He also registered at the same library, on the same day. I called the library; they claim that he was in there nearly every day from four to six, the same time as our vic."

"Maybe he was stalking her?" she suggested.

"It gets better," he added with a grin. "He stopped going the day after she died. Hasn't been back since."

"So what…he becomes infatuated with a girl…stalks her…and recognizes Mathew and decides to frame him?"

"We never found prints on the knife," Greg reminded her.

She let out a sigh, coming to a stop as she faced him. He was nearly pleading with her now. It was a thin lead, but then again so was Mathew Brent. Finally she nodded, forcing a smile. He looked so pathetic just standing there. "I guess you better find an address then."

"Already have," he responded, "you coming?"

"Of course," she nodded, "but I'm driving."

**TBC**


	12. Authority

**Thanks be to Kegel for the beta, and to everyone that's reviewed! Here's the next bit. **

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Authority **

They had put the call through to Brass, leaving the lab shortly after. Greg slid into the seat of the Denali, watching as Sara programmed the address into the GPS before turning the car on.

"I don't see why I can't drive," he replied gloomily, arms crossing in front of his chest.

"Suck it up, Greg," she told him with a smile, "both of us know that I'm the better driver."

"So I had an incident. Just one; what, is this the no-mercy-rule? No second chances?"

"An incident?" she laughed, shaking her head. "You totaled the Denali; company is still trying to replace the vehicle."

"I didn't know that was a no parking zone," he confessed. "You think the tow truck driver would have questioned a completely decent vehicle before towing it away. Wasn't my fault they decided to crush it."

"You parked in a junkyard, Greg," she told him, pulling out onto the street. "Where they were crushing cars consistently. What did you expect?"

"A ticket?"

"Well, you did get that also."

"I don't think a suspension slip from Ecklie counts as a ticket," he shook his head. "Besides, I thought the department was going to sue them over that."

"They tried," Sara shrugged her shoulders. "Owner was under orders to crush everything in lot, and that's right where you left the Denali, so the suit fell through."

"When did that happen?"

"A while back now…" she informed him, pausing for a moment as she merged into traffic. "A few months at least."

"Why wasn't I told?"

"Because you started the entire mess."

"Still say it wasn't my fault. Besides, that's not bad driving, just…bad parking."

"Parking falls under driving, so therefore it makes you a bad driver."

"Well," Greg shrugged his shoulders, "I've driven myself around all these years before I met you and I haven't had any problems. What do you call that?"

"Unfortunate luck."

He frowned, watching her. "Is that even possible? To have luck that's unfortunate?"

"You can have bad luck," Sara told him quietly.

"So, you're saying it's bad luck that I've never been in an accident? What, do you have a death wish for me or something?"

The statement caused her to laugh, Greg not quite sure if he should feel relieved in the knowledge of Sara's light nature, or worry that she was becoming more devious. But the expression on his face only earned more laughter from the brunette, Greg finally giving up altogether. Sometimes it was better not to know.

Ahead he spotted Brass' car, silently grateful to be there as Sara pulled the vehicle to a stop. She was out of the vehicle first, Greg pausing to slip into his vest before heading out after them.

"You two lovebirds get lost? Or did you just take the scenic route?"

"We came from the lab," Greg answered with a frown, "not our fault you were in this area."

"How long have you been waiting?" Sara asked, changing the tone of the conversation.

"About fifteen minutes. Talked to some of the neighbors, apparently our boy Puller is out at work."

"So let's go get him then," Sara suggested, removing her sunglasses. "He works for Nitech Cellular company, they're a fairly new provider, they can't have too many stands open."

"Already called the company," Brass shook his head, "They say Brian hasn't worked there for a few months now. Fired for sexual harassment."

"Sounds like our guy," Greg commented with a nod.

"So we came out all this way for nothing?" Sara asked, irritated now. "At the moment he's a person of interest, we don't have enough to pull a warrant to search his place."

"So find more," Brass told her, "I'll hit up a judge with what you have now, see if I can pull one, but it'll be hard. Until then we have to wait until he comes back home."

Greg had been listening with mild interest then, nodding suddenly as the other man finished. "What's that?"

Both of them followed his gaze, the fence in the yard hanging open slightly. It could barely be seen, but it was definitely there.

"A blue Camaro," Sara replied softly. "Our vic had a blue Camaro. How much do you want to bet the license plate matches as well?"

"Gate's open," Greg told her, turning to Brass. "Don't need a warrant?"

"As long as you look and don't touch," Brass reminded him. "Not even photographic evidence."

"If it is Emily's car, and Puller catches wind of us snooping, he will get rid of it," Sara pointed out. "Do we want to take that chance?"

"I say go for it," Greg answered. "It's a car, it's not like he can slip it in his pocket and drop it in the nearest dumpster."

"He could torch it," Sara told him, "or drive it off into the lake. Other ways of dumping the evidence."

"Then we could get him for obstruction of justice later on. Disposing of the car would only heighten the perception of guilt; having something to hide."

"Either go look, or head back to the lab," Brass told them firmly. "Nick's waiting for me at another scene, and I can't leave until the pair of you are gone."

Greg watched Sara for a moment, the woman meeting his gaze, nodding after a moment in silent agreement. "We won't be long."

Greg took the lead, checking his surroundings before slipping through the open gate. It still felt weird, and he knew that this was virtually as far as you could bend the rules without breaking them. Sara was behind him, Brass following as well, scoping out the backyard. The car itself had been covered in a tarp, one end being freed by the wind and had overlapped itself, the sun beating down on the metal.

Greg longed to run a hand over the flawless work, always having been drawn to the art of the bodywork. It was a difficult concept to explain, but he couldn't deny his fascination with cars. Next to him Sara dropped into a crouch, studying the license number.

"Definitely our vic's."

"Alright," Greg grinned at her, moving to the other side of the vehicle, his eyes searching through the windows. "Who made a good call?"

"You did good," Sara told him warmly, still crouched low to the ground. "Now we just need to find more evidence that leads us here, and we have a solid case again. You ready to go back to the lab?"

He didn't have the chance to answer. Shouts filled the air, gunshots echoing around them. Instinctively he ducked behind the car, using it as a shield. Sara had done the same, her gun drawn now as more shots filled the air.

"Suspect on location!"

Brass' call could be heard over the ruckus, and near him Sara moved to her feet, peering over the hood of the car, with her gun ready. Greg watched her for a moment, surprised as she raced out in the open, shock flooding through him at her reckless action. Quickly he reached for his phone, pressing it against his ear as the number began to dial.

He himself was unarmed, and knew better to stay out of harm's way, but his heart still raced in his chest as he risked a glance over the hood, barely making out Sara's retreating form around the other side of the house. There were more shots fired, another commotion, and Greg knew he had to move, swallowing as the voice came on the other end.

"We need back up, we have an officer down."

* * *

It had started out as a simple investigation. They were only supposed to speak with a potential suspect; that was all. Now it had turned into this.

Brass had been wounded in the shoulder, and another woman from a nearby house had suffered a gunshot wound to the leg. Both of them were already being tended to, while Greg and Sara stood further off to the side as police began marking the area with the familiar yellow crime scene tape.

"Was the scene cleared?" Grissom asked them quietly. The man had arrived shortly after backup, having heard the call over dispatch.

"Yes," Greg answered quickly, then paused after a moment. "And no…"

"Well, what one is it?"

"Brass was clearing the scene as we went in," Sara explained.

"So that would be a no." Grissom stated.

Greg agreed quietly. He knew that they should have waited, but with no sign of danger being present, he hadn't thought much of it at that time.

"He will be okay?"

He asked the question that had been pulling at his mind for the last few minutes now. Greg assumed he would be, but he needed to know for certain.

"They'll probably keep him overnight and let him go home in the morning," Grissom assured them. "The neighbor as well. They were both lucky. As were you," he added, turning to Sara.

"I did what was right," she responded.

Grissom shook his head, "We are not trained to take pursuit of armed suspects. Normally this could qualify for suspension, but since your actions probably saved Brass' life, we'll just stick to a reprimand. Don't do it again."

"You never talk to Nick or Warrick about chasing people down," she pointed out, not quite willing to lose the argument just yet.

"When there's a gun pointed at them, then yes," Grissom shook his head. "I do talk to them then."

"Grissom," she started, but was cut off.

"We're done here, what's happened has happened. Now, can you two finish up here?"

Greg nodded, meeting her gaze. Sara let out a sigh, not quite happy with the way things unfolded, but nodded as well. "Yeah, we got it."

"Good," he nodded to them. "I'm going to follow Brass to the hospital, see what's going on for sure. I'll meet you back at the lab later."

Greg watched the man meet up with the paramedics, speaking to them before climbing in the back of ambulance. The commotion itself around the neighborhood had not died down and now many more onlookers were standing by, trying to get their glimpse of what was going on. Sara touched his shoulder gently, motioning with her head for him to follow.

He was still shaken by everything; he would be the first one to admit that. If the others had noticed, they hadn't said anything. Even Sara was distant, the woman hardly paying him any attention as they reached the backyard once more. Her camera strap was now looped around her neck and she shot several photos in succession, moving around the car they had found only previously. It would be a long day, he knew.

Greg knelt down, opening the case and pulling out his gloves. He was halfway through putting them on when she spoke.

"I want you to go back to the lab."

The statement caused him to frown, his gaze drifting up to where she still stood. Sara refused to meet his questioning glance, her focus instead on the car in front of her.

"Excuse me?" Greg finally voiced the question, pulling on the last glove.

"If you hurry you can get a ride from one of the officers. I'll need the Denali for evidence transportation."

"The scene is here, Sara," he told her. "Why would I go back to the lab?"

It wasn't unusual to be sent back early to process crucial evidence, but at the moment they had little more than a handful of photographs and a clutter of varied stories from eye witnesses. Unless of course she was going to have the car towed, and wanted him to start processing it then. But what came out of her mouth next was something he was not expecting.

"You're not qualified to be out here."

He wasn't sure if the insult hurt him more than it confused him, Greg holding his own camera firmly between his fingers as he repeated the statement to himself. Finally he shook his head, turning to her once more.

"I passed my proficiency; I'm not on probation or suspension, and last I checked I haven't been fired."

"Greg, there is a suspect still on the loose that is armed and dangerous."

"Not the first time," he was quick in reminding her. "What does that have to do with me? He's guilty of murder; he knows it and so do we. It's not like he's going to come back home when his place is crawling with cops."

"You could have been hurt today," Sara told him sternly, "you had no gun, and no experience in a situation like that."

"I've been shot at before Sara," he told her angrily. "The convenience store, the robber? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"That's different," she responded, meeting his gaze for the first time. "Out here you face a greater danger, and until you learn how to use a gun and carry it with you, you're not coming out into the field with me."

"What?" Greg cried, moving to his feet. "Carrying a firearm is not required to be out in the field. It's personal choice."

"And yet you are the only one that chooses not to," Sara responded. "It's an irresponsible decision; plus it's my decision to take you out here."

"Sara, listen to what you're saying. You took off after the suspect, not me. You engaged in a dangerous situation, I regressed."

"Which is exactly why you aren't ready. What if Brass had been killed? Would you be saying the same thing now? That you did the right thing by hiding?"

"I called for help," Greg reminded her. "And what would you say if it had been you that had been hurt? You were reckless, Sara, admit it."

"I am still your supervisor," she told him coldly. "I know I said I'd be more lenient in certain issues but this one is not negotiable. Either you go back to the lab or I'll write you up for insubordination."

He shook his head, letting out an angry sigh. "Fine, whatever," he replied sharply, pulling off his gloves. "Hope you enjoy doing all of this on your own."

He didn't wait for a response, only grabbed his case as he went by. The accusations hurt, but what worried him even more so was the statement Sara had made about him carrying a firearm. That was one of the last things he wanted to do, but if he couldn't work with Sara, then he would have to move to another shift. Another thing he didn't want to do.

The only thing that was clear was the knowledge that he had to make some very crucial decisions…and soon.

**TBC**


	13. Falling

**Thanks to all who reviewed, and to my beta for doing this a once-over. **

* * *

****

Chapter Thirteen: Falling

He had been sitting there an awfully long time. Nick had attempted to make light conversation on several occasions, but it was clear the other man did not want to talk. Instead he sat there at the table, his eyes pointed towards the form in front of him, but his gaze lost in some other realm unknown to any of them.

Near him Warrick nudged his shoulder, nodding towards the man. Nick risked a glance at the rookie CSI, holding in a lingering sigh. If it was at all possible, Greg had become even more despondent since the last time, the pen still grasped in his hand that rested on the table. It was as though he was caught between a want and a need. Slowly Nick shook his head, unable to stand it any longer.

"Think about what you're doing, Greg," he cautioned, his voice cutting through the strained silence. "This isn't like deciding how you're going to wear your hair, or what radio station you want to listen to. This is big; if you switch shifts you have to stay with it for at least six months."

"Thank you, mother," he replied crassly, "I wasn't aware of that."

"All we're saying is take some time," Warrick clarified, hardly taken aback by his response. "Days are a hard change to get used to, and you'd be reporting to Ecklie. Swings, you have that new guy, what's his name, Mclennon? Don't forget the hours fluctuate, too."

"I am taking my time," Greg muttered, chewing absentmindedly on the pen in his hand now. "That's all I've had, time."

"More time," Nick emphasized. "Like a few days, or a week maybe. Hey, why don't you take a month if you need to. Not tonight, not when you're upset."

"I'm not upset."

Nick let out another sigh. Greg had returned early from the crime scene, a surprise to all of them especially after hearing about Brass' injury. They hadn't expected to see anyone return for another handful of hours at the earliest. Yet judging from the way he had stampeded in, it hadn't been too difficult to guess what had happened.

"Okay." Nick ran the scenario through his mind again, trying to think of a way to get through to the younger man. "You wouldn't be able to work with any of us again; are you really going to leave me stuck with this guy over here?"

He could hear Warrick's protest, but the action had been worth it. A sly smile crossed the man's face as Greg finally looked at him for the first time that night. "You could always change with me. It's fifty-fifty: days or swings?"

"Nights," Nick commented. "You love working nights, man, don't tell me any different."

Quietly the other man agreed, setting the pen down. It was a comforting sign; he knew Greg was upset, about what he wasn't sure, but he had a good idea it was about Sara. The woman could be…irrational at time, but she did mean well. And Nick was certain that quality was what was destroying the relationship between the two. Sara cared enough to the point that she would at time overstep Greg.

The man, of course, would see her ways as overbearing; Greg didn't take well to being coddled, and would only resent the actions further. It was one of the strangest love-hate relationships Nick had yet to see, and though he knew the two could be compatible, he knew they both had a lot issues to work out first. But it wasn't his place to intervene; the pair would have to come to that conclusion on their own.

Still that seemed to be a long way away. Nick glanced up in the direction of the hallway, hearing her before actually seeing her. Greg had, too, for even though he hadn't turned there was a look of irritation spreading across his face. Sara herself was a sight. The look of exhaustion on her face was only masked by the fury she wore instead, storming down the corridor and straight into the room.

"Greg," she huffed quietly, her voice tense and firm. "We need to talk." Her eyes flicked briefly to the other two occupants in the room, her expression hardly changing. "Gentleman, would you care to step outside? Greg and I need to have a discussion."

"This is the break room," Nick reminded her quietly.

"Then we will leave," she responded quickly. "Greg?"

"Whatever you have to say, you can say here," the man answered instead, moving quickly to pick up the pen again. Nick was quick to pull it out of his hold, shaking his head. Greg was acting off raw emotions; this was not something he wanted, and the Texan wasn't going to sit by and watch him sign his life away to Ecklie's domain for half a year.

"Give it back."

"Greg!"

Her raised voice caused all three of them to jump; Nick shook his head quickly, frowning at her. "What is your deal?"

"Doesn't concern you," Sara responded. "I'm his supervisor."

"Technically I'm his supervisor, too," Nick reminded her. "We all are; we've all taken part in training him. So it concerns us all. Now talk."

It was a stretch, and he knew it. But he could clearly see that Sara was in no more of a rational mood than Greg was. Leaving the pair alone was like tossing a pyromaniac a bottle of lighter fluid and a match. It was a very bad combination.

"Alright, Greg disobeyed my orders."

"I went back to the lab," he defended himself quickly.

"You took the Denali!"

"So what?"

"I told you to get a ride," she responded, moving closer to him.

"I did, I gave myself one."

"I told you why I needed the Denali…"

"Whoa," Nick stepped in quickly, holding up his hand to cut her off. "People please; you're going to wake up all of Vegas if you keep this up. Why don't we calm down?"

"Why don't you stay out of this?" Sara questioned him, turning back to Greg. "What are you doing here anyways? You're supposed to be processing evidence."

He didn't get a chance to respond, Sara's expression changing as she saw the forms on the table. Instead she grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet. The motion must have surprised him, had to have surprised him, for it surprised Nick. "We need to talk, now."

Nick was astonished, watching as Greg pushed her off, but continued to follow without so much as another word, the two disappearing into the locker room. Quickly he made a move to go after them, but was stopped as Warrick grabbed the back of his shirt, the man shaking his head.

"Give them a moment; they need to sort this on their own."

"I don't know, man," Nick shook his head, "if we don't do something they're going to kill one another."

"Yeah?" Warrick laughed, grinning. "Well twenty bucks says Sara kicks his ass."

The response surprised him at first, but then he found himself laughing. He knew the two better than that; they were both grown adults. Surely they could take care of things themselves. "Alright, twenty bucks says Greg doesn't back down."

* * *

He knew that she would be angry; maybe that was why he had done it. Greg didn't have any other explanation in mind. If it had been someone else, anyone else, then he wouldn't have gone through with it. It had been his full intention to get a ride as Sara suggested. But he had a spare set of keys in his pocket, and most of the others had already left. Once he had taken it, there was no going back.

Driving had calmed him down, had relaxed him. He wasn't a bad driver, despite what Sara said. Greg actually found it sort of therapeutic at times, and that had been one of those times he desperately needed it. But it hadn't been enough. Greg didn't want to take on a gun, didn't want that kind of responsibility. He knew the dangers of the field, had been aware of the dangers even before he went out to the field. It wasn't something new that had just presented itself. So why couldn't Sara understand that?

Sara couldn't, because she didn't want to. Somehow she believed that her way was the best; for the both of them. That was when Greg realized that the only way things were going to change was if he initiated that change himself. He just couldn't bring himself to finalize it.

Ecklie was hard enough to answer to on occasion. The last thing he wanted was to answer to him daily. Not to mention what Nick had pointed out earlier. He hadn't started a morning shift in years. Working through the night and on through the morning was different than starting in the morning and working through the day. Even the mere thought of trying to readjust to the new schedule exhausted him. But he couldn't keep up with this game Sara had been playing; not anymore.

They needed to talk; that much was for certain. But Sara was quiet, facing away from him, and Greg didn't know where to start. There were as many angry accusations floating in his mind as there were doubts. Doubts that this wasn't going to work out, doubts that she was ever going to trust him. But how could he say these things? He wanted to, but his mouth wouldn't work, wouldn't form the words he wanted to say.

"You're changing shifts. Why?"

Sara had been the one to break the silence, her voice cold and withdrawn. She was still facing away from him, arms crossed, her gaze fixated on the wall in front of her.

"I think that's obvious, don't you?"

She turned to him, a mixture of complications adoring her face. "Because of me?"

"You were right; I can't work with you…and I don't want to."

He regretted what he had said, but it had been none other than the truth. For a while it had been fun; he and Sara got along for the most part. But that was before they became involved, before their separate lives had melded into one. Now they saw too much of one another, now they no longer had any breaks, no respites from one another. They were too much the same, and yet so different it felt as though they could no longer find common ground.

The hardest part? They blamed each other for the problems that were being caused.

Sara was still quiet, fidgeting slightly, as though she was nervous. Greg waited for her to say something, to say anything, but she remained as silent as ever. With a shake of his head Greg held out his hands, as though to show he meant no real harm. But words could cause more damage than anything that was done physically.

"I don't know what you want me to say, because I don't know what you want to hear. But what you need to hear is that what you did was wrong."

"What I did was right," she challenged him quickly. "You could have been killed."

"_You_, could have been killed," Greg reminded her. "But you don't see me telling you what to do, or how to live your life, or do your job."

"I'm your supervisor…"

"And I love you!"

Once again his mouth had run off without his mind. Once again he regretted saying it, but it was true. Sara had been reckless; when he had been calling for backup he had assumed it had been for her. Quickly he took in a breath, shaking his head as he moved on by her.

"What do you mean?"

Her voice was so soft, so fragile that it threatened to break him. Greg kept his emotions at bay as he tried to figure out how to explain what he did mean. The quiet words had been exchanged before, but never held in such a tone until now. Suddenly, all too suddenly, everything was coming crashing down around him, and he was only beginning to realize it now.

"You may have been scared," he told her finally, working the combination on his locker. "But you weren't the only one."

Quickly he slid the lock off, moving to open the door but Sara stepped in his path instead, now just inches from his face. "I can take care of myself."

"So can I."

"I have more experience in the field than you do."

Greg let out a sigh, reaching around her now to grip the handle on his locker. He was fully intent on opening it, on getting out of here as soon as he could. The further this conversation went along the more uncomfortable he became. But Sara stopped him, leaning on the cold metal, her weight keeping it closed. He let out another sigh, shaking his head. "How am I going to get the experience if you keep sending me back to the lab?"

"Why won't you take on a gun?"

"I don't want a gun," he hissed, pulling on the door once more. "Get out of the way."

"Answer me first," she told him coldly.

"I don't have to."

"A gun would keep you safe."

"Move!"

He had been yelling, knew he had because she flinched at his voice. But Greg was past the point of caring, pulling on the locker with all his weight now, fully intending to knock her off balance. He missed, however, the movement made by her, as slight as it was.

Her expression had changed, from anger to rejection, from rejection to irritation, and she did as he asked. Greg just hadn't been expecting it.

He also hadn't expected the metal door to swing so suddenly, hadn't gauged how close he had been. But he had felt it sure enough. The blow caused him to stagger backwards, tripping over the bench that ran the length of the locker room. Even as he stumbled he could feel the hands grab onto him, trying to counter his weight.

Greg latched onto the body near him, but his weight only succeeded in pulling the both of them down. There was a mixture of comments, of curses, intermingling in the air that was followed by a louder one shortly after the echoing of a thud as they slammed into the lockers behind him.

He was lying on top of her, or maybe she was on top of him; Greg really couldn't tell. What he could tell was that he hurt, and it wasn't a welcoming sensation. He let out a groan, reaching up with a timid hand to his throbbing head.

"Okay…that hurt."

He heard Sara agree, her voice just as quiet as his as she pushed herself up slowly into a sitting position. "I think I'm bleeding…or maybe it's your blood…"

"I think we both are," Greg agreed, pulling his hand away slowly. Sure enough there was a thin line of blood smeared onto the palm of his hand. He let out a frown then, watching her now. "So tell me, how would having a gun keep me safe again?"

She laughed, the smile crossing her face. But she didn't get to respond, their attention drawn to the door as Nick hurried in quickly, his breaths coming in short gasps. The man glanced at the both of them, the pair tangled in a heap and covered in various amounts of blood, the locker door still swinging from force exerted on it earlier.

"I can't believe it," he whispered quietly, his voice strained. "You two actually tried to kill each other."

Greg was already shaking his head, reaching up to grab the bench to pull himself up. "Not exactly…that's not what I meant to say," he drew in a breath, trying to redirect his words, "I mean…yeah…this looks bad, doesn't it?"

"Only slightly," Nick whispered, as though his quiet voice would somehow keep them safe from any of the others finding out. But that was futile hope. Greg knew the fall had caused quite a ruckus; pretty much everything could be heard throughout the department. Save for interrogation. But that was a different matter altogether.

Warrick was there next, taking in the situation slowly. The man held a similar expression to what Nick first had, and was exchanging glances with him now. For a moment he didn't speak, but finally he cleared his voice, leaning in closer to Nick. "So…who wins the bet?"

**TBC**


End file.
